


Come Undone

by demonheathen (feralbunny)



Series: Red Dead Epsilon [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha Arthur Morgan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur is Bad at Feelings, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Feral Behavior, Gratuitous Smut, Intersex John Marston, Light Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Non-Conforming Gender Roles for Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega John Marston, Pack Grooming, Possessive John Marston, Protective Arthur Morgan, Scenting, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unplanned Pregnancy, graphic smut, mentions of Gamma/Delta/Sigma Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 118,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralbunny/pseuds/demonheathen
Summary: Arthur, second-hand man in the Van Der Linde gang and well-known Alpha, has been strung along by lifelong friend, passively lover, John Marston. Everyone else thinks it's a fit of angst between them, but Arthur is a big ole' softie for John when he can be. Soon, Arthur is wrapped around the man's finger, hanging on his every scent.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, John Marston/Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler/Abigail Roberts Marston (mentioned)
Series: Red Dead Epsilon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990303
Comments: 70
Kudos: 230





	1. A New Start in Colter

Arthur woke up in a cold sweat, the sun creeping over the cliff and into his eyes. It was the same dream again. 

_Always started on the beach. A white-sanded place with bright blue water stretching out to the end of the world. Peace, quiet except for the soft crunch of footsteps behind him. Turning around, he was thrust into John's arms, his face unscathed by wolves and shaved down. The young outlaw rested his head to Arthur's shoulder as they danced slowly behind the saloon._

_"I love you, Arthur," his gruff voice cut through Arthur's blank mind, making him look down into John's dark, naturally foreboding eyes._

The night he wanted to bond to John. His heart already took the leap, he could never commit to Mary. He always went back to John. But his leaving once before was enough to tear him up. 

Arthur folded a hand over his eyes with a groan, pulling himself to sit on his cot. It was a fool's dream, he knew. That was the last night he spoke to John before the fiasco at Blackwater. Then the idiot got lost in the mountain after fleeing. 

He saw how distraught it made Abigail, knowing her closest friend could be at his death. But it made Arthur stay up at night, he stared out at the snow-covered caps, planning out his rescue to Marston if he could've stomached his shame. 

Hoping that John was alright because damn it, his heart ached for his return. 

When he and Javier went to go find him, Arthur was furious, seeing that John was alive, just barely. He mentally pummeled himself, wishing he'd gone back and urged John to stay with him or at least go with him. 

Arthur pressed his hand over his forehead, then through his hair before forcing himself to stand. The camp was starting to reek the saturation of omega heat. It was close to time for him to excuse himself and wander his time alone rather than wallow in the unobtainable sweet that the omegas let off during heat, especially John. 

He knew how Dutch got through it with Molly, but he didn't want to think of what the rest of them got up to. At least with Sean being away, he didn't have to deal with it. Lenny learned from Charles to stuff his nose with beeswax from the general store. One day, Arthur would have to try it out. 

But then he'd miss out on time he got to himself. He almost wished he could bottle it for when he got heavy in the heart but it'd only make the feeling worse. 

Arthur shook off the thickening air around him and went to Pearson's coffee. 

"Mornin'," he grunted, kneeling to grab the pot. He poured to the rim of his cup and started sipping as he set the pot down. 

"Mr. Morgan," Pearson said, grabbing his empty stew pot from the fire. The complacent beta and a shotty cook. 

"I'm on my way out today." Arthur muscled through the back grit of his coffee, shaking the grounds from his cup. 

"You're leaving again?" Ms. Grimshaw cawed from across the camp. "Just after we got Sean back?" 

"Would do me some good to be away from his yapping, have some damn peach and quiet." Arthur put away his cup, his eyes pulling towards John emerging from his tent. He cleared his throat, making his way towards his horse. 

He could already smell him, right under the surface. 

"John," Arthur muttered, holding his breath past the male omega and mounting his shire. The heavyweight was too rare to trade when Hosea told him to. It was a good horse for hunting, his only friend on the dirt paths for the time he was gone. 

"What, you leaving again?" John asked, holding his hand out to catch Arthur's forearm. He stopped, squeezed at Arthur's muscle. 

Arthur felt his insides start a fire at John's rough grip. He tried to hide it but the hairs on his arm stood on end. 

"'Course." Arthur cleared his throat. "Can't be stayin' here." He didn't need to explain himself. John always knew. Arthur avoided his dark stare with a roll of his shoulders. 

"Why not let me come with ya?" He asked, tugging Arthur to lean down on his horse. 

John took the moment to take a deep inhale and Arthur felt his vision tunnel on him. He wanted John to take in all of his scent, rewire himself so he was all that was on the omega's mind. But he forced himself upright. 

"You know why," Arthur retracted his arm from John's hold. The young outlaw's eyes, though dark, were started to blow out in blackened spherules. "You know why. Just sort yourself out." 

He planned his exit quicker, pulling his hat from his saddlebag and fastening it to his head. Grabbing onto Shire's reigns, he quickly tugged up, ready to make haste. The sooner he was gone, the sooner he'd be able to breathe alone. 

As he tried to leave, John hoisted himself onto the back of Arthur's horse and held on. "You're not getting on without me."

"Why're you doing this to me, John? You're making this harder than it's got to be." 

"You want air, I want some too. Let me come. Plus, you'll keep me safe out there." 

Arthur withheld a snarl as he shifted up on his saddle horn. "Yer better off here, in numbers. I'm one man, John." 

"Just...keep me away from Micah, take me with you," John whispered into Arthur's shoulder. 

Arthur refused to pressed the subject further, only knowing that Micah was bad company to keep. With a grunt, he spurred his horse out of camp. John curled an arm around Arthur's waist, only for Arthur to shift away from his touch. 

"Don't go touching me." He could control himself, he had to. No matter how many dreams he had or how sweet John could smell. 

"Ain't complained before," John managed to added in, forcing his hands under the saddle as he sat closer to Arthur. The jostle of the ride caused John to nudge against Arthur, only fast-tracking the omega's descent into heat. 


	2. And the Heart Will Overflow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and John try to set up camp for the week. But sometimes things don't go as planned.

They barely made it past Emerald Ranch, heading north to Heartland Overflow, before John grabbed onto Arthur's shirt and complained of aching. Arthur willfully ignored the omega's whine, muscling down his alpha urge to make right in hopes to mount. He straightened his back, pulling his arm from John's hold and tugging Shire's reins to a halt in one motion. 

Arthur jumped from the saddle and urged John to stay put, if only for a moment. 

"Just let me set up your tent." Arthur reached into his shire's saddlebag and pulled free his tent, fast handing its set up as John peeled himself from the saddle. 

"Arthur..." John mused, his breath started in a lowly pant. Arthur fought with the tent poles as John started reaching to unbutton his shirt. "I'm hot..." 

"Get ahold of yourself, John. Get some water from the river." The Alpha nodded to the Kasama river down the way, just within eyesight.

Something to get John away long enough for Arthur to breathe and concentrate. He was not about to let John sleep in the open, peace of mind came to him staying in front of a one-way tent all night. John nodded, almost limping his way to the bank for palm fulls of water. Arthur exhaled, unfurrowing his brows and setting up the tent. When he was done, he shrugged off his hat and swiped back his hair. 

This was going to be a long week. 

"John," Arthur called for his friend who was wobbling back to the tent. "Come on, let's go hunting. It'll be quick." 

For John, it was torture. Between his hips aching to the point that sitting was not an option and the fact that Arthur started smelling intoxicating, he felt himself rumble in hunger. The Alpha's scent was teasing on the top of his tongue. It was hard for him to focus, suggesting to stay back with the shire as Arthur withdrew his bow. 

"John," Arthur began, only to stop as John shifted his hips in discomfort. He wouldn't push. "Fine, you don't move an inch. I'll be back." 

John nodded hazily, his eyelids growing heavy as he felt the sun creep further into the sky. The heat seeped from under his clothes to his neck, causing his pant to rise and a sweat beading on his forehead. His cheeks flushed hot. He couldn't stand to be upright, leaning over Arthur's saddle and hastily unbuttoning his shirt. 

Anything to be cooler, freer. The heat inside him could be tolerable, but the outside heat made it unbearable. No more clothes, John's mind repeated, must cool off. 

His shirt was to the ground and he reached for his belt fastens as Arthur returned. 

"Hey, hey, what're you doing, John?" Arthur rushed back to the horse as John bared his ass to the sun. "Come on, act like you've got some sense." 

Arthur felt his heart stutter at the image he stumbled back upon, picking up John's shirt and draping it on the omega's back. This was already the worst idea he could think of. 

"Let's go." 

He stowed the single rabbit he managed to hunt then grabbed his shire's lead. John hissed and whined back to the tent, then felt into Arthur's hold when they stopped. He instinctively pawed at the Alpha, hastily unbuttoning Arthur's shirt and rubbing his cheek in the man's chest hair. "Arthur..."

Arthur kept a hold on John's forearms, "Hey. You gotta get ahold of yourself. You get in there." 

He stomached through the scent invading his sense, the feeling of John's hot palms over his chest and stomach, and pulled open the tent before holding the cloth flaps closed. Arthur forced in a few deep gulps of untainted air to ground himself, feeling his vision return from the fuzzy haze. John was going to stay in there, even if it meant Arthur would tie the tent closed. 

Even if it meant that Arthur would stand and hold the flaps closed for the time John got it out of his system. 

"Arthur, please...." John mewled through the tent flap, grasping at the cloth walls. "Just let me smell you." 

Arthur looked up to the sun directly overhead now. It was the worst time to go into heat. There was no moving now, not without complaint and the possibility of a threat. An omega in heat now was like cooking them over a fire, amplifying their rousing scent for any potential mates. He wanted to open the flaps and let John take his fill, but it was his Alpha's desire to drink up the thrilling air of omega. 

Arthur was meant to stay strong, no temptation. No touch, no wallowing on past thoughts, he was out here for a reason. But now the reason was egging him on, begging for attention. 

With one hand, he tugged his shirt from his shoulders then pushed it through to John. "Here," he said affirmatively, hearing John snatch up the garment and shuffle to the far end of the tent. 

John buried his face in the Alpha's shirt, hunched over it as he folded his hand between his legs, grinding his aching clit against his knuckle. A restrained moan yoyo-ed in his throat as he nuzzled his face further into Arthur's shirt. It felt shameful, but John couldn't help it. It was the only way he could feel better, get it out of his system to have a clear head. 

Still, it wasn't enough. All of it was causing a deeper ache in him. He opened his mouth with a frustrated groan into his friend's garment. 

Arthur took a breath, releasing the flaps from his hold and sitting down. He wanted more time to prepare for this but there was never enough prep for this. At least at camp, John could've been around other pack members to watch him. Then Arthur wouldn't have any omega heat firmly pressed under his nose. 

"Goddamn it." He just wanted fresh air, he couldn't get away from John even if he wanted to. Between the wanton dreams about anything before the mountains and his presence around camp, Arthur felt stuck. 

Every time he saw John, he wanted to bring up what was said back in Blackwater, wanted to know if the feeling was true or even there still. But he couldn't make himself move, only letting his heart wind itself up wildly, ticking like a unmanned bomb. His ears pricked at hearing his omega friend shuffle inside the tent. 

John rolled himself over Arthur's scent, wanting it all over. He pulled the garment on, rocking back to his stomach as he bucked his hips on the inside of the shirt. Eyes squeezed firmly shut, John felt the temperature of his body as he pleaded to himself. Arthur's scent would have to be enough, it just had to be because it was all he could have. 

He let himself get a deep breath in, then out before he finally gave up, throwing his hands from his body and tearing Arthur's shirt from his body. It wasn't going to work. Sitting up, John looked around the empty tent except for his clothes. Arthur's body was sat just outside of the tent, his hands were pulled away from the flaps. 

John picked up the alpha's shirt, forcing it directly under his nose to keep him inside. His stomach started to flip, no longer content with the smell embedded in the garment. He was so close to the source, the warmth that would melt him from such a fucking spell. 

Withholding a growl, John shuffled towards the flap of the tent and forced his hand through, taking grip of Arthur's thick forearm.

"Arthur. Come." John barked lowly, his throat rasping at the end. He felt his vision clouding with a milky haze as his nails embedded in the Alpha's forearm. "Now."

Arthur froze at John's hold, his voice cutting through the cloth and sticking right to the back of his neck. His hair stood on end. He could resist it, he was not tempted. With a low hiss at John's nails making their home in his skin, Arthur slowly folded. 

"Fine, fine." Arthur ducked himself into the tent and almost doubled over at the smell. 

It was unavoidable, not a single space in the confines untainted by the salivating scent of spring grass. No, something else, honeysuckle, peach? Something that Arthur wasn't familiar with, but he wanted to be. He withdrew his arm from John, barely noticing the scratches on his forearm as he pressed his hands to his face hard. Arthur folded over himself, choking himself on the smell now lodged in his throat. 

He couldn't swallow it down, he couldn't breathe anymore in. Arthur tried to force away his bleakening vision. He was going to fight through it, he was stronger than this. There was too much at once. 

"Arthur." John grabbed Arthur's shoulders and forced him to sit upright. He gently grabbed onto the Alpha's wrists to pry his hands away. Arthur visibly choked out an argument but John only slid his leg over Arthur's lap.

Arthur's eyes quietly searched John's, unable to see that the omega's pupils were full blown. He looked down to see John slowly unbuttoning his pants and tugging them.

"No," Arthur said with a gulp.

He pushed John off of him, adjusting himself back into his pants. Not even if he wanted to. Sure, he was aching from the scent he was being tortured with but it was not the time. 

He still couldn't breathe, his hands away from his face, he sat by and held his breath until he couldn't anymore. John sat firmly before the exit of the tent, staring Arthur down without blinking.

"John, I need you to listen to me. You know that we can't," Arthur tried to reason. 

"Why not?" John's husky voice just above a whisper as he edged towards the Alpha. He'd never seen Arthur to shaken before, his normally cool demeanor boiled down to Alpha shakes and timid protests. "Mount me, Arthur. Please..." The omega mewled, his hand reaching out to pet at Arthur's chest.

Arthur felt his steel resolve shudder at the racy words from John's mouth. No. No. No. He couldn't, he wouldn't, he shouldn't...

Arthur barely recognized his next move as John was soon under him, arms pinned above his head. His chest heaved as he stared down at John, feeling the omega's leg curl around his waist and rub against the tent in his pants. 

He watched John's face resolve into diminutive pleasure, his heavy eyelids fluttering close as a moan croaked from his scarred lips. Arthur's tongue prodded from his lips, his hips slowly working in motion with John. This was wrong, it was. 

Still, Arthur couldn't stop himself as he undid his pants just enough for his cock to bust out. He took one hand from John's and guided himself between John's slickened thighs, only for John to pull him in with his pinning leg. 

Arthur froze, eyes unfocusing as he felt John's warmth around him. His hand returned over John's, gripping the omega's hands harshly as he made a show of going deep. It forced another moan from John's throat before he buried his face in the Alpha's neck. 

Arthur wasn't easy with pace after stuttering his hips for a few tentative pumps. He planted a knee, folding John's knee to his chest as he was unrelenting. John's hands shook as he clawed at Arthur's knuckles, feeling rush after rush of pleasure soar through his body. 

He felt the deeper ache start to soothe, being rubbed the right way until it cracked along his back. The feeling spread across him quickly, his hands seizing and cracking Arthur's hold before he threw his head back with a final moan. 

"Arthur." John felt the name on his tongue slowly bring him down from a snapped high. He was hot, still, but the ache was lowered. 

Arthur was transfixed, still pumping into John's wet heat, dripping over his waist and thighs. Hot skin, hot breath, Arthur took John's earlobe in his teeth and nibbled menially, trying to bring himself down. He released John's hands, instead caging the omega's head under his arms. Animal instinct was rushing further through him, livening his senses and making his body electric against John's. 

The omega gripped at Arthur's shoulder, nails digging into his skin as his other arm folded over the man's broad back. He moaned against Arthur's hot skin again, already feeling his heat start to break a second time. 

Arthur shortened his pace, skipping to a lavish thrust into John before exploding on impact. His body contracted, sweaty muscles seizing as he released a lengthened guttural growl, John felt his body react with another twitch of pleasure, smaller than before. Arthur's throat strained before he rested against John, pulling himself out to save the strain of a knot. 

John nudged his nose to Arthur's ear, hoping for him to say something. Arthur folded his hand over his face, rolled onto his back next to John before muttering a solemn, "Fuck." 


	3. When I Ask This of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur still tries to get past what just happened, but John still feels the remnants of his heat.

Arthur couldn't begin to reel himself back in. He felt that he was out of his body. One moment he was keeping John away from him, choking on heavy heated air. Then he was inhaling John's sweat-slick scent gland, the smoke clearing from his vision as the omega was nuzzling his nose to Arthur's ear. 

"Goddamn it, Marston," he said, massaging his brow as his knot swelled in his other hand. 

He forced himself back into his pants, buttoning up and folding over himself with a groan. 

"What I do?" John asked, sitting up and tossing Arthur's shirt at his head. 

"I wasn't 'sposed to be around you right now!" Arthur snatched up his shirt and gave it a quick whiff, noting the new smell woven into the garment. He willfully ignored the slick tail ends of the shirt and the drool stain between the shoulders. "You coulda done fine back at camp." 

He rubbed at his brows again, his dick twitching in his pants at the scent still in the air. It was starting to coagulate, his sweat dampening John's musk and making it a little more bearable. 

"You know I couldn't do that," John said, reaching for his own shirt. He buttoned it up slightly, pushing up the sleeves as his fever started to break. "Even with the pack, I don't have the same heat cycle, Arthur. Micah knows it too." 

_Micah._ Arthur immediately remembered John's mention of that rat-faced bastard. He didn't want to know what the disgusting alpha said to make John seek out Arthur, but he didn't want to ask. 

"He told me the next heat I had, he'd breed me in front of the camp. That there was nothing anyone could do if he forced a bond on me." 

Arthur wrung at his shirt in his hands then looked at John. The omega wasn't making any more moves to get dressed, only cleaning the slick of sweat from his skin with his sleeves. 

"You know I wouldn't let that happen," Arthur said, tossing down his shirt and going to pull back the flaps. "But you can't just do that to me." 

He was strong until the last moment, he thought. It wasn't until John spoke straight through to alpha and made him act instinctively. 

"Don't act like you didn't like it," John drawled, reaching for Arthur's forearm. 

Arthur tensed, his eyes shifting to John's hold on him before looking into the younger man's dark eyes. 

"Thanks though. I felt like I was gonna die." 

"You've been through it too many times before, what makes this one different?" Arthur made no move, only watching as John shifted towards him. 

"Dunno. Just felt way worse. I don't think I would've lasted a week." John was already leaning in again, rubbing his face on Arthur's arm and migrating up to his shoulder. 

"You look like it's not even over yet." Arthur exhaled heavily, forcing his steel resolve to return as his knot began to deflate. 

"Shuddup." John muttered, prodding his tongue out to taste Arthur's sweaty skin. 

"I think you need some fresh air." Arthur reached for the tent flap, allowing the clean air into the tainted hovel. 

John ignored the breeze along the plains, only drinking in Arthur's dominant musk into a post-sex stupor. He felt his thighs returning slick, along with Arthur's cum leaking out of him. 

"No, just...one more time?" John whispered, his free hand folding between his knees. It wasn't all gone. He felt the remnant of heat cradled low in his stomach, missing the aid of Arthur's cock. 

"What?" Arthur released the flap to close again. "No." It couldn't be possible. Or it could be. Arthur didn't mess with omega heat often. 

With the girls joining the gang, it was only Mary-Beth and Tilly that were omega status. Karen and Molly were different, still going through a heat but able to function during it. Hosea mentioned that it was gamma status, just a heartier version of omegas. 

_John was mostly ignored when he reached his first heat, blocked away from Arthur while Hosea and Dutch tried their best to help. Hosea sat the prime Alpha down, told him that John was not meant to be touched during this time. He was meant to be actively avoided, like he had TB._

_"You don't catch a whiff of him, you don't stare at him. Arthur, he's very volatile right now. He'll control himself soon enough."_

Arthur knew that John tried his best, keeping himself to himself during his heat. But now his guard was down, rubbing on Arthur, petting his chest again. 

"Please," John mewed again, a low, husky tone. It gripped on Arthur's heart and rushed him with another unnecessary, weak feeling. 

"John..." He reached for the omega's cheek, tenderly lining his raw stitched scars. Arthur wanted to give in again, but he was already guilty. 

John grabbed onto Arthur's free hand, sliding it between his slick thighs and towards his wet heat. Arthur gulped, not making a move in either direction. John slid Arthur's index finger slowly between his folds, allowing the Alpha to slip and curl into him. 

The omega clenched slightly, releasing a heavy breath against Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed, twitching his finger inside to John's dismay. Still holding onto the Alpha's wrist, John rutted against him, burying his pleased noises into the older man's shoulder. Arthur could smell the air livening again, feeling John's slick leak between his knuckles and into his palm. 

It was quiet as John guided Arthur's second finger into him, leaving the Alpha to press his thumb to the omega's clit.

John gripped harder onto Arthur's forearm and his wrist, wanting more. It was barely enough from what he was just exposed to. Arthur curled both fingers, grazing the ridge-like sponge area just in his reach. The omega produced more slick, making the knee of Arthur's pants wet. He shook lowly, quietly chasing the man's hot touch as his rough thumb pad caressed in circles. 

Arthur felt the young man rest his chin on his shoulder, panting lowly until he keened. He held Arthur's hand still, rolling his hips through another orgasm. 

He found himself panting in the same instance, looking down to see his hand glistening. John released his hold on Arthur's wrist, then his forearm before backing off. 

Looking down at his hand, Arthur rubbed his fingers together. He was tempted to lick it, to taste the essence of something so...

He forced his hand into his pocket, then opened the flap and disappeared outside. Air, fresh, nontempting air. Arthur gulped like a dehydrated man to water. 

Standing to a stretch, Arthur made his way over to the river, splashing cool water against the back of his neck to calm himself. He kept his sullied hand hidden, still wanting to take in his instinct and lick it clean. 

No. He forced the hand from his pocket, scrubbing both of them in the water before slicking back his hair. It was over now. There was nothing more to do about what happened. It just couldn't happen again. Not until he figured himself, or John, out. 

Arthur brought his knees up, resting his arms over them. It was nice while it lasted, he thought. Now it made him feel hollow. He felt used to scratch an itch that John could've gotten over on his own. Or was John doing this all on purpose? Arthur groaned, tilting his head to the sky for a long moment. 

The sun basked him in warmth, relaxing his shoulders and drying his skin. 

John came down from his high with a his, his hips still aching though mildly less. He caught himself, rubbing his face before running his hand through his hair. 

He should've suffered through it. He should've just buried his face in Arthur's shirt and forced himself down and been happy about it. But now he muddied Arthur, confused an unspoken boundary he wasn't sure about. 

John couldn't get over himself. He should've stopped when Arthur asked him to. But the feeling, the ache was deep. _Stop ignoring me, my feelings, Arthur._

_Stop pretending that I never said it. Say it back._

John buttoned up his shirt, then pulled on his pants, grimacing at the stickiness of his body. He opened the tent and shuffled out, sitting by. Staring across the plain to Arthur, taking in the midday sun without a care in the world. 

How could he go back to pretending nothing happened, John didn't know. He wanted it to stay on Arthur's mind, immerse him in it again. Maybe it would stir up everything again. 

_They were alone, only able to slip away from the gang for a few moments. John pulled Arthur out to the back of the saloon, ducking into the shadow as the young man pinned Arthur to the wall._

_Rearing up on his tiptoes, John quickly pressed his lips to Arthur's, tasting the Kentucky bourbon and nicotine from his last cigarette. The older outlaw rested his hands to John's hips, brought him closer so their chests were pressed._

_It was the first kiss. John should've relished that it was their last, too. He'd waited too long, felt strung along by Arthur. He thought that his feelings were wrong, that he misread everything._

_This kiss shook away all doubts. He reached a hand into Arthur's auburn hair, gently fisting the soft locks until the alpha finally pulled away._

_They were breathless in that moment, staring at one another in the milky bask of the moon. Arthur's lips were swollen, his cheeks flush._

_"I love you, Arthur," John found himself saying, staring into cerulean eyes reflecting with stars._

_Arthur stared back at him, dumbfounded. His mouth was slack open, ready to respond but no words forming. John waited, hoping that Arthur hadn't gone deaf in that exact moment._

_Instead, Arthur folded his arms around John in a hug, holding him tight. The man was quiet, only pressing his lips to John's ear and humming softly._


	4. Too Much Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur are trying to give each other space after breaking an unspoken boundary.

When Arthur was done soaking in his sun, he returned back to camp, pulling his shirt back on and buttoning it up. He grabbed the rabbit from Shire's stow, purposefully ignoring John sitting idly by. Sitting down across from John, Arthur produced his knife from his pocket and started skinning. 

John watched in silent intrigue as Arthur's fingers slipped just under the rabbit's fur and tore its muscly carcass out. His eyes flashed quickly with a wild focus, acknowledging that he was now starving. If he'd listened to Arthur and stayed put earlier, there could've been a deer carcass to last them a while. 

While his eyes darted over the blood splattered on Arthur's hands and the carcass, he pressed his knees together like a vice. It was broken, his heat was no more, but John still felt a damp warmth between his thighs staring at the alpha. 

Arthur set his knife aside, tearing the rabbit carcass in half to bare its organs and skeleton. 

"Yer makin' a mess," John managed to say, forcing his legs to fold cross before him.

Arthur dropped the carcass to the side as he stood to gather supplies for a menial fire. "You still reek, John." 

The young outlaw grunted in response, watching Arthur wander across the plain in a search. He ignored his body's response and stood, turning on his own to scavenge as well. Arthur turned, seeing John get further away from camp in the opposite direction. He paused, intent on John's movement so he wouldn't get far. The alpha was still in control of what happened to John, even if it weren't with him. 

_The hug grew long and awkward, the two swaying as Arthur rhythmically squeezed John tight. He couldn't bring himself to say it back, his heart wrestling its way up his throat as he worked his jaw to speak._

I love you, John. I love you, too. I can't see myself without you, John. I don't know what I'd do without you. 

_Everything he wanted to say was settled on the tip of his tongue, but it weighed him down. John shifted out of his hold, staring into Arthur's shining blue eyes before huffing through his nose._

_"Okay," he said, and the word settled so harshly in Arthur's gut, he thought he'd been stabbed._

_The look on John's face was twisted to make the hurt seem less, but his lips crooked down in an uneasy smile._

No, not okay. John, I love you. Let me hold you. Don't back away, please. 

_Arthur reached for John's, unscarred, malleable and ridden with stubble. His thumb rubbed the softness under John's eyes, leaned in. "John."_

_The door to the saloon swung open and both men froze, with John swatting Arthur's hand away and making his way back inside._

Arthur returned back to camp, sat by again, and waited for John's return. He managed to build up a pile of dry grass, then grabbed his matchbox to strike one. John stopped up the river to rinse his skin, lathering his hands before pressing his cool palms to his neck and chest. He felt his heart rattle heavy inside him, revving him back up. 

He forced his oncoming pant into a steady breath, leveling himself before he returned to torture Arthur with his scent. It wasn't on purpose, he thought it was under his control but now it was less so. 

Arthur's smell was not making its way into him, clutching onto him and wringing slick out of his body. It wasn't something other alphas did to him, just him. 

He controlled it better at camp, at least with Arthur's avoidance in tandem. Now, it was impossible. And now it would be a week of living with the fact. John would need to get control on himself again quick. 

John forced out a frustrated groan from deep within his chest, wanting to acknowledge what that meant but refusing to. 

"Well, look here boys," A voice cut through John's own wallowing thoughts, "seems like this omega's a little ways from home." 

John peeked over his shoulder, following the voice to a hick Beta mounted on a horse. There were two other Betas behind him, all staring at him. 

He looked back in the direction of camp, realizing his distance from safety. Reaching for his waistband, John swore under his breath as he realized his gun belt was still in the tent.

Slowly, he stood and turned towards the three men. 

"I 'on't want no trouble," he said, pressing his foot back into the creek and trying to get his bearing on a slippery rock. 

"Where you think you're going, sweetheart?" The main Beta asked, reaching for his hip as the other two whistled and called at John to show a little skin. 

"We'll take you where you need to go." 

John shook his head, taking another quick step backwards into the water. "No thanks, I'm good. My mate's not too far away." 

The three sniffed at the air, the main grinning defiantly. 

"I don't smell 'em on you." 

The Beta rushed from his horse as John stumbled his footing and fell back first into the water. The stranger grabbed out for him, embedding his nails into John's skin. 

He winced outwardly, snatching his hand away. "Get away from me!"

The Beta reached for John again as the omega floundered and sat up in the bank. 

"Hey!" Arthur barked outwardly at the pack of Betas closing in on John. "He said step away." 

Chest puffed and teeth bared in a snarl, Arthur stepped up to the main Beta, purposefully egging him on to catch a whiff. The main Beta scowled before tempting a sniff at the tall man before him. John reached out for Arthur's ankle as the main Beta took a step back. 

His eyes widened in shock, the main pushing back with his men as they realized the power before him. Arthur held his hand out, touching at the top of John's head. The men mounted their horses again and Arthur uttered a possessive growl in their direction. 

The Betas kicked up dirt as they pulled the reins on their steeds, hightailing back to the main path. Arthur refused to look down at John, knowing that he'd bend at the look of him. 

Arthur grabbed onto the wet omega's collar, pulling him up to his feet and assessing him with a quick once over. "You okay?"

"As well as I can be." 

Arthur forced his lips into a straight line before holding his hand out for John to lead the way. "You're not having yourself a grand old time?"

"Shuddup." John managed, walking back to camp with Arthur behind him. 

He shed his shirt, wringing the water from it before hanging it on the tent pole. John tucked himself inside of the tent, folding his arms over himself. Frustration was barely the beginning of it. 

_The night was built with proclamations of new horizons after the heist in the morning. The ferry would dock in the morning and everyone would slip on board, robbing every civilian. Micah promised that only the elites would be there._

_But it was all short-lived. The ferry was a disaster, causing everyone to flee to the mountains. Arthur wanted to followed after John, but the Pinkertons caught on his tail._

_"Go, go! I'll shake 'em." Arthur waved for John to go, for him to keep going as the air got thinning and the cold cut at his skin._

_"Arthur-"_

_"Go John, now!" Arthur yelled John away, watching the young outlaw disappear over the snow ridge in the same direction as the rest of the gang._

_John came down the other side of the snow ridge into a billow of cold wind. Cutting deep into him, he forced Old Boy to keep going until his steed whinnied and attempted to buck him off._

_"Alright, it's okay," John said, grabbing the horse's reins and leading him around to a rock ledge that shielded them from the winds._

_He shuffled through his stow bag for his winter wear, bundling up tightly before feeding and mounting the horse again. John was already behind on his trek back to the gang and now it'd be harder with the wind blowing over the snow, erasing tracks._

_They made it down the mountain before a storm blew in, causing John to take shelter in a damp enclave. He sat by, wondering if Arthur made it around, slipping away from the Pinkertons._

_The thought kept him awake, focusing on coming back to Arthur and Abigail for the sake of her not cursing him to death._

"You sure you're alright?" Arthur asked, sitting outside of the tent and looking over his shoulder at John. 

John grit his teeth, letting the retained heat of the tent dry him. _No, where were you?_

_Say it back, you bastard._ "'M fine." 

"Good. Should be having lunch soon." 

John didn't answer, only stared at the back of Arthur's head, still willing for him to do something. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We. Don't. Have to talk about the little hiatus I took. I always try to research so far ahead and then I end up killing my story before it gets off the ground. NOT THIS TIME. SAY IT WITH ME.


	5. When It Comes Down to It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and John make a decision about their situation, and discover a new situation after the fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't mean to be horny on main but like, boys need a cuddle. Everyone needs a good cuddle....

Arthur stoked the fire before stabbing a chunk of rabbit and holding it over the flame. John didn't move from the tent, staring out at the fire as it crackled and simmered just under Arthur's blade. 

They were quiet after the meat was cooked, with Arthur offering the quiet omega more than half of the portion for the day. 

"I was thinking we could head back tomorrow." Arthur gripped at the chunk of meat with his canine, tearing it harshly with a quick jerk of his head. Overtough, but it was better than undercooked. 

John turned with a glare to Arthur, shifting further out of the tent. "They'll know something happened, Arthur. And I ain't ready to explain that."

"They don't need to know nothing," Arthur added between chews. "Like they'd know from first glance." 

"There's nothing that goes unnoticed around Miss Grimshaw. You know it." John stared down at the portion in his palm. 

"Bad news don't get better with time."

"I know that, too. I just...I don't wanna go back yet." 

John knew that he'd have to face Micah sooner or later, feel the rat-faced alpha's nose behind his ear, practically counting down the days until his next heat. Why Micah only targeted him, he wasn't sure, but he felt the man's eyes drag over him in camp. He was trained on John, ready to pounce at the second a drip of slick aerated. 

Arthur stole a glance at John, saw his face turned down in a heavy frown. He was already losing and they'd barely spent a day out alone together. His alpha was ready to comfort John, make them stay as long at he felt comfortable, hoping that the omega would want to nest. 

And Arthur couldn't deny that it was an overwhelming part of him in general that wanted John to feel safe. But he couldn't wean himself anymore. He felt emotionally exhausted, guarding himself away from John after feeling him so closely. 

He was now softly indulging in John's scent, getting high from it and waiting for John to cave first so he could finger slick again. 

With a clear of his throat, Arthur forced his fist into the ground. "We'd have to keep huntin'."

John slowly perked up at the indication of Arthur's words. "I can help with that." 

Arthur gave a sharp nod before grabbing another portion and tearing into it. "We can start in the morning."

The rest of their lunch was spent in silence, and the day dwindled past with Arthur cleaning his guns and scavenging roots. John whittled down a scrap of sun-dried wood until it was nothing, keeping his hands busy to bide the time. 

The darkness swept across the sky, revealing alignments of stars. John stared up while the fire started to dissipate, releasing bright embers into the air.

"I think I'll call it a night," Arthur said, running his fingers through his hair. "You take the tent."

John furrowed his brows, "Come on, Arthur. We can share the tent, it's over."

Arthur tweaked his nose at John's protest with a scoff. "It don't matter." He stared into the dying flames, waiting for John to duck inside but the omega studied his hardened face. 

"Don't torture yourself. I'm not gonna do anything," John said, opening the tent. 

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring John's words as his eyes drifted up to the clusters of stars. 

_Arthur wanted to go back. He wanted to circle back through the mountain and make sure John caught up with the rest. The Pinkertons were shaken halfway through the snow ridge and just as Arthur caught tracks from the rest of the gang._

_The snow was billowing up, already erasing behind him. He waited, with Bodaceia whinnying in detest, weighing his options. Arthur popped his collar up, pulling Bodaceia's reins up to rear him._

_Turning over his shoulder and clicking his tongue to his horse, Arthur started back in the direction of Blackwater._

"Arthur," John called from inside the tent. "Get your ass in here." 

Arthur immediately went back to earlier that afternoon, remembering John's impatient tone cutting through and causing his skin to ripple with goosebumps. He shrugged his shoulders back, taking one final look across the desolate plains before folding and ducking inside. 

He didn't look at John, only focused on his bedroll and the sudden weight that creeped up his neck. With a grunt, Arthur lowered himself to the floor, facing away from John. 

John looked over Arthur's shoulder then followed his lead, only facing the older man's broad back and staring into the darkness. He thought of counting to sleep as Arthur swiftly slipped into a snore. The bear roar that erupted from Arthur's open mouth was enough to make John lull, fight off the heaviness of his eyelids. 

In another moment, they were both asleep, with Arthur rolling over in John's direction. 

Arthur woke up to the warm scent of freshwater, a smooth texture tickling directly under his nose. His arm was starting to ache, feeling a steady weight on his bicep. Arthur reached for his nose to scratch it, then rested his hand on softness. 

He blinked slowly, looking down at his hand. His fingers gently petting at John's hairline as the omega's face was nestled in his chest. Arthur couldn't see how close they were, practically sharing the same clothes as John unconsciously squeezed Arthur tighter. The omega's legs were tucked between his, tangling them together and Arthur felt it in one of his knees. 

Still, he didn't make a move to separate. John was warm, his breath trickling down Arthur's chest. He realized he was purring softly with Arthur's heartbeat taking note. 

The thrum in his chest was encouraging him to pull John closer and he did, gently brushing his fingers through John's hair and taking hold of it with a soft scratching to his scalp.

"Don't get up," Arthur mouthed as John shifted slightly, curling his leg even tighter around one of the alpha's. 

This was what Arthur missed most. Just the two of them in their own world, not having to fight or put on brave faces for each other. He could barely remember how many nights they got to share that way, but his body still conformed to John as if it was always. 

He released a soft purr in return, lulling himself back to sleep with his other arm curling John closer. 

John woke up later that morning to Arthur's warmth in the tent gone. He shifted up, rubbing his eyes as he pulled back the flap of the tent. 

"Up and at 'em, John," Arthur called from his shire, pulling free his bundle of arrows. "I saw a few Pronghorns go up the river from here, they should be good for a few days." 

John stared up at Arthur, his eyes bright as the morning sky. He felt his heart pull at the sight of him, already wanting to do what Arthur was telling him. He only nodded, grabbing his belt from the corner of the tent and fastening it to his waist. 

Arthur reached for his heartbeat doubling in pace, feeling a tug within him. He folded a hand over the middle of his chest, feeling the tug dampen for a moment before starting up again. 

John made his way over to mount Arthur's horse and the tug was stronger and tighter. He held a hand out to rest on John's shoulder and a rush of calm and warmth flushed through Arthur. 

His eyes widened as he retracted his hand, searching John's face for a silent acknowledgement. He wondered if he felt it too. 

John remained unfazed, his body used to the comfort that came from Arthur's touch, as rare as it was. He didn't seek it out, especially with Arthur shutting him out but now John felt a quiver in his stomach because of it. 

It previously weakened him, not being able to be close around Arthur after everything. But now it was thriving, already eager for more touch and closeness. The tug was worming harder, ready to chase after Arthur's touch. 

It only confirmed what John wanted to deny. It explained John's rush into heat and the slick that came without warning. John shoved Arthur in the shoulder then mounted the shire, ready to get the hunt over with. Maybe it was better if they went back to camp, it would be easier to explain than what was planted firmly in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Except Micah. Micah can fucking eat dirt.


	6. Don't Make a Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week together, Arthur and John must return to the gang. 
> 
> But someone's been waiting for John's return.

They spent the next few days in tandem. Hunting in the morning, skinning and leaving pronghorn furs to dry in the sun. Then they'd try to find other ways to fill up the silence during the afternoon, usually gathering water and scavenging for fire supplies. 

By nightfall, Arthur and John relaxed into a better routine, cooking by the fire, staring out at the stars, both of them silently counting down the minutes until Arthur announced that it was time to sleep. Only then could they feel free. They didn't even wait for their bodies to take action. Arthur turned over to John and held him close, letting the omega nuzzle his face in his chest and curl his legs between the alpha's. 

John weaned the heat from Arthur's body, pressing himself further and wrapping his arms around the older man's waist. He used the alpha's bicep as a pillow, with Arthur gently petting down John's hair. This was easy. They could deny this in the morning and go back to their distance. They didn't have to worry about declarations of love or heats. This was them at the very core. 

On the last night, however, Arthur knew they'd have to break themselves of it. It was a growing pain in his stomach that he knew his distancing behavior would have to return. 

He didn't want John to think it was his fault. It was always Arthur's. It would always be Arthur's fault because that was how it was. He didn't say 'I love you' and John got lost, John got attacked. 

If he'd swallowed his dumb pride and been soft for a second, he couldn't just kept John from getting hurt.

Arthur looked over to John, chewing at his dinner portion, and wondered if John blamed him too. 

He had to. 

Arthur just knew it. When he saw Arthur on the ledge after the wolves attacked, was he happy to see him?

No.

Arthur remembered the blood smeared along John's face, his lips cracked and paling to blue. The omega's body was racked with immense shivers and could barely stand. 

"Quit starin'," John said, cutting through Arthur's thoughts again. 

"You hate me, don't cha?" He asked, tearing his portion with his teeth and sitting back. His voice was smaller than usual. 

"Why you ask that?" John leaned forward to look Arthur in the eye, but the alpha stared forward into the fire. 

_He started in the direction of Blackwater, calling out for John. Arthur was determined to make sure that the young outlaw was on the right path as the gang searched for a new hideout._

_"Arthur!" Bill called out in the opposite direction, "Dutch sent me to find you."_

_"Where's John?" Arthur asked, looking over his shoulder as he kept on back to Blackwater._

_The wind started to pick up and made Arthur lose his breath._

_"Marston can take care of himself, come on." Bill followed after him, raising his voice as the snow began to whip in their faces._

_Bodaceia kept his head low with Arthur clicking his tongue again. "I ain't leaving him behind, okay?"_

_"We can find him another day, Morgan, but not now." Bill's horse trekked forward, taking the rein from Arthur's freezing hands. "Let's get out of this storm."_

John nudged Arthur in the shoulder and the alpha exhaled a low growl. 

"Hey, I don't hate you," John said, shortening the distance between himself and the alpha. "I could never, ya big dummy." 

Arthur turned with a slight curl of his top lip and John shoved his shoulder into the older man. John wanted to repeat himself, even though it would fall on deaf ears. 

Back at camp, Arthur hitched his shire as John hopped from the horse. The grounds was starting to wake, with the sun climbing over the horizon, changing the sky to bright pink. 

With John's help, Arthur donated the pronghorn spare parts to Pearson's wagon then fetched himself a cup of coffee. 

John stood by as he watched Arthur down his coffee with a harsh suck of his teeth. He followed after the alpha back to his tent until Arthur raised his brow. He didn't want to feel so jarred from Arthur's look. John knew he shouldn't have gotten comfortable with being held by the alpha at night. The tug of both of their chests were flush with comfort as they tangled themselves close to one body. 

"I'll...see you around, Arthur." John tapped his hand to the barrel holding Arthur's shaving kit. "Thank you."

He took a step back and turned, bumping into the twisted earthy smell of another alpha. Micah.

"What's a matter, Marston? Not happy to see me?" Micah grinned as John stepped back. 

He reached his hand out to brush John's long hair behind his ear then stepped forward to smell the top of the omega's head. "Went and sweated out another heat, huh? I'm sure I'll catch you next time."

John shoved the outlaw away with a sneer. Arthur tossed the grounds from his coffee cup then pushed his way between the two men. 

"Micah, I'm gonna have to ask you to step away from him now." Arthur pressed his hand to the blond's shoulder and gave him a steady push away.

"Don't tell me you're gonna defend this little bitch, Arthur," Micah spat his insult over Arthur's shoulder to John. "Don't even waste your breath. He'll be begging for me next heat."

John's stomach twisted at the thought, only stepping firmly behind Arthur and turning away from Micah's glare. 

Arthur forced his face to remain stone, though the pull inside his chest was urging him to attack. Thankfully, Dutch whistled at the boys and broke Arthur's concentrated glare at Micah. 

"Can't wait for you to choke on my knot," Micah hissed over Arthur's shoulder to John again.

Arthur was ready to take Micah by the collar and headbutt him but he swallowed the feeling with a huff. 

"Alright, that's enough. Micah, go wash your filthy mouth," Dutch ordered from the opening of his tent. 

"Listen to your leader, boy." Arthur bared his teeth at Micah before shoving him away. "Stay away from John." 

The blond alpha shoved back before snarling again. "We'll see." 

Arthur saw the man off, then looked at John from over his shoulder. "Marston, you okay?"

John bundled his hand into a fist then rested it to Arthur's side. "He ain't gonna stop." 

Arthur ignored John's words as he ducked his head under the alpha's heavy arm. He stared down at the young brunet, unsure how to respond. There wasn't any way to make him feel better by just words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Micah.  
> Fuck Micah.  
> Fuck Micah.  
> Fuck Micah.  
> Fuck Micah.


	7. Hold it Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes it upon himself to watch out for John because what else would he do? 
> 
> But he gets a bit distracted in his efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any excuses for this.

Later that night, Arthur couldn't sleep. The rest of the gang dispersed and Charles, along with Bill, took scout. 

That left Micah to slither around like the snake he was. Arthur was already trained on every movement he made. It was unconscious, but Arthur was keeping a safe distance between the blonde alpha and John. 

Every time Micah crossed over the front of Dutch's tent, Arthur straightened up, puffing his chest and balling his fists in his pants pockets. 

The scent that Micah emitted was one of intimidation. Arthur sneered in the man's direction, his edge sharpening as his scent leaked with agitation. A hefty man like Arthur was not one to get in a fight with. It was better for Micah to cut his losses and leave John alone. 

"Howdy, cowpoke. Might want to take it down on the stench," Micah taunted as he sauntered to the main campfire, just to the right of Arthur's tent. 

Arthur grunted, eyes still on Micah as he sat down. When he did, the alpha reeled himself back in. The aggression was beginning to stain his vision with red, his temperature rising feeling like he was falling into rut. 

With a shake of his shoulders, Arthur relaxed then made his walk in front of John's tent. The omega was in, his breathing soft and rhythmic like a purr as his oil lamp flickered behind the tent flaps. As long as John was okay. 

However, John was not asleep. He couldn't. Not after everything that Micah taunted, promised and especially not now. Not with Arthur's aggressive scent seeping into his tent , making him produce slick despite covering his mouth and nose. 

The tug was strumming within him, telling him how agitated the alpha was getting. He needed to be comforted. 

John hid a grumble, breathing behind his hand as he heard footsteps outside of his tent. Arthur stopped, standing guard as he noticed Micah moving again. The omega stood up from his bedroll, peering through the crack in his tent opening to see Arthur's mountain figure planted firmly. He reached his hand out to get Arthur's attention. 

"Hey, you need your rest too," John whispered to Arthur's back.

The alpha snorted lowly in response. "I can go a few nights without it."

John fought the smile emerging on his lips. This, Arthur could do. But three simple words...

John's grip on Arthur tightened and he pulled the alpha inside. 

"You're damn stubborn, you know that?" John argued, twisting his face to an indistinguishable regard. His tone was hushed for the sake of the others in camp. 

"Me? I dunno what you're talking 'bout, Marston." Arthur's attention went back to the opening of the tent with a huff, then an inhale. 

His eyes opened fully and he saw more light flooding into his vision. "John..."

"What?" John snapped softly. 

"Are you slick?" Arthur tried to ask as calmly as possible but his tone was betraying. He felt his dick start to harden in his pants, constricting against the fabric and grating along his zipper. 

John scrunched his nose at the accusation, seeing Arthur's brows raise in curiosity. Of course he was, but now wasn't the time to bring it up. It was the alpha's fault anyways. He crossed his arms as Arthur continued to stare, drinking in the dampened air and getting high from it. 

"It's...'cause of you," John muttered, backing away from Arthur. 

Arthur was trying to stay sane, close to tasting the slick on his tongue. Where was his focus right now? He wanted to stay on guard for John's sake, keep him away from Micah. 

But now he was swimming in the omega's scent, feeling his mind line with pink fuzz. Arthur stepped closer to John, inhaling the aroma of him. 

He _was_ doing something, wasn't he? The aggression in his body was starting to dissipate, his shoulders dropping. Arthur slowly fell to his knees before John and growled lowly. 

"Arthur," John tried to pull the alpha from the trance that was growing on him. His growl shook John down, causing more slick.

"Fuck, Arthur." John looked down at the alpha, his nose nuzzling against John's zipper. "Snap out of it." 

Arthur was in there, gulping and holding his breath, but the alpha was taking hold. "Get naked."

John took grip of Arthur's cheek, staring into his fully blown pupils. He opened his mouth to protest but felt weak in the knees by his words, his warmth, his scent. Him. 

He did as he was ordered, kicking off his boots and shedding his shirt before finally reaching for his pants. Arthur gawked, eyes following John's hands hurriedly stripping to reveal light tan skin. 

From the lamplight, Arthur could see the pale lines of John's scars from the wolves. Down his thighs was the gleam of slick, and between his hips was a matted down bundle of hair. 

Arthur stood, grabbing John by the back of his thighs and rushing him to the floor. Swift and gentle. His eyes wildly traced over every inch of John's body, hoping to collect it for later memory. 

The alpha lowered his mouth to John's chest, sucking on the omega's heady skin, leaving red marks all the way down to his hips. He angled his knees to keep his hard cock from rubbing against the bedroll, against John. 

He was panting, getting so ahead of himself while his mind was boiling in lust. He lowered himself further, splaying John's thighs apart and teasing his tongue down them. 

Arthur blanked at the taste of John's slick. The parch in his throat he didn't even realize was suddenly being sated. He licked the omega's thighs clean, hungry and loud, sucking at soft skin until John hissed lowly for him to take it easy. 

His attention was soon snapped between John's thighs, the source of such intoxication. Arthur glanced up to John, seeing the omega sitting up on his elbows. 

"Arthur," John whispered in a warning tone. While his body craved the attention, John was nervous by the thought.

The pull in Arthur's chest was climbing up, going on a hilly wave as John's breathing picked up. He grinned, pressing his lips to one of John's thighs again before his fingers parted the omega's blushed fold to reveal another small stream of slick. 

Arthur nudged his nose up, inhaling the heavy musk of John's fur before trailing down. He flicked his tongue out, lining down the omega's lips before finding a well of slick. His cock twitched in his jeans, begging to be sheathed in John's heat. 

John hummed in encouragement, his eyes fluttering as he felt the haze sink in. One hand went for his mouth, the other for Arthur's chestnut hair, feeling his hot breath against him. He wanted to wiggle himself closer to the heat, his body opening further for Arthur. 

The alpha immediately wittheld from folding John over himself and drinking him dry. He still had refrain of his actions though he felt a hunger for more. Arthur slowly slipped a finger inside John. 

The omega inhaled sharply, raising a knee and quietly pleading. Arthur watched John contract around his digit, more slick coming. Another finger slipped into John as Arthur's tongue flattened against his folds. 

John tried to stay level, forcing a long exhale from his nose though he was already spiking. Arthur's fingers curled, steady motion as his tongue worked and lapped up the seeping slick. John's other hand fisted Arthur's hair harder, wanting to hold onto the feeling a little longer. He wanted to draw it out but he was starting to go cross-eyed. 

Arthur was unmoving from John, taking in the omega's keening and whimpering with pride. He felt John's fingers gripping tighter in his hair, the pain shooting down Arthur's neck but nothing to make the alpha stop.

The heat from Arthur warmed up his stomach, causing his core to seize control of his body. The tug in his chest whipped and whirlpooled in harmony, John felt fingers tremble against his scarred cheek, breaking into a light sweat until he finally toppled over. 

Arthur felt John stiffen up, folding over him with a stifled moan. He felt his chest rumble with a satisfied purr. 

John moaned heavily into his palm Arthur's name, curling up and over the alpha as his fingers held tight in his locks. In the back of his mind, he'd have to apologize to the older man afterwards. He panted, slowly dropping his hand from his face as he looked down to the alpha still licking him dry. 

The core slowly sizzled while John started to form incoherent words, resting his free hand to Arthur's shoulder. His other hand unclenched from the alpha's hair, brushing it back. With John's hand on his shoulder, Arthur disconnected from the sweet with a soft smack. He swallowed, then returned for a final lap that made John twitch. 

"Fuck," John whispered, panting as Arthur sat up on his knees. 

He used the butt of his hand to swipe the excess from the corners of his mouth then grinned down at the omega. 

"Do you know," Arthur purred, leaning over John and hovering his slickened hand over his lips, "how good that taste?"

"You're drunk." John scoffed as Arthur leaned in. 

"Maybe, but that's your fault," he said with a low chuckle. 

"You're the one stomping around all mean alpha, asserting dominance like a goddamn mate." 

"I'm tryin' to keep you safe, John." Arthur rolled over to John's side, willfully ignoring what the omega said. 

John folded his arm over his eyes. It was easier to deflect like this, wasn't it? _Three words, Arthur. Just say it and you'd feel better._

"I know," John finally said, but he didn't say thank you. 

Arthur slithered his arm under John's neck then pulled him in to his chest. He knew there weren't a lot of words to say now. His aggression was now replaced with an ache in his jeans while his mouth waded in a remnant buzz of honey. 

He reached behind him and turned down the oil lamp as John yawned into his button down. The alpha muttered his thanks to John, no longer wanting to patrol the grounds and only wanting to keep the omega safe as close as possible. 

Arthur's eyes focused on the opening of the tent as John fell asleep, purring softly and letting the omega fall into his comfortable position. He reached behind him and pulled a blanket over them. The pull in his chest tightened as John nuzzled closer. 

The tug in John's chest harped in content as he took a deep breath of Arthur. The alpha started to drift off until John tensed in his hold. 

He glared over to the opening again and saw a figure standing in the shadow. Arthur bared all of his teeth and gums in a low growl to not wake John. His chest rumbled as his hold tightened around the sleeping omega. 

_I'll kill you. I will do it._ Arthur silently threatened to Micah's intruding scent, tainting the once-sweet air. 

He snapped forward at Micah, still keeping the rest of his body stagnant to John. Micah froze in response, slowly backing out of the tent as Arthur watched him leave. 

Even without the words, John was Arthur's. 


	8. Paying a Social Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and John have to have a real talk sooner or later. One would think that it'd come sooner than everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s get something out of the way. I love angsty bois. I like bois that are emotionally stunted, and big ole’ dummies that struggle to use words that they absolutely feel. 
> 
> I know this is a big of a long read, but I ask you to hold on, just a bit...just a bit...just a bit longer because I’m sure you’ll like the little culmination at the end.

John woke up to Arthur still snoring, rumbling softly over his head and through the tent. He looked over the alpha’s body to see the sunlight peering through the opening.

With a deep breath, John returned his forehead to Arthur’s chest, holding the man and squeezing him close. He expected Arthur to slip out, or wake him up just to leave, but he liked this.

No, he loved this. John didn’t like to think of things so strongly unless it was Arthur. But this involved Arthur. He could admit that he loved this. The tug in his chest was humming, warm and thick as his chest was flush to Arthur’s.

He felt Arthur’s pull linked to him, happily knotting and re-knotting itself with his own. The alpha could deny saying ‘love’ but what John felt in his chest was real.

Even though it didn’t feel enough, it was good for right now to lull him back to sleep.

_John hissed as he bundled himself under the enclave, folding his hands over his chest where a harsh, knife-like twisting was thrashing. He’d felt it planted between his ribs since Arthur ordered him to go._

_Before, it was stagnant, only making short waves to be known. It only reacted in Arthur’s presence, catching onto his scent. It was enough to keep him level headed though he wanted to snarl._

_The man couldn’t say it back, he barely tried. The whole night went by, they woke up, shared a single glance from across the camp and then Arthur went on with Dutch’s ferry plan._

_Now, he knew. Arthur was getting farther away. The storm was only getting thicker and John leaned against Old Boy for warmth._

_He rubbed the palm of his hand to the thrashing tug in his chest and willed it to stop, at least calm down, because Arthur was going to come get him. Soon._

Arthur pulled John’s head closer into his chest, resting his nose on the top of his head. He inhaled, content in the feeling of the omega in his hold.

He couldn’t wean himself from this. Not after feeling it. John was warm, yes, but it was also just John. Arthur could see the omega in his mind without opening his eyes and his heart swelled.

Why was he pushing himself away from this? To punish himself? Because he punished himself in other ways too.

Arthur furrowed his brows as he slowly woke, remembering how he pushed himself from John so often. _No_.

He wasn’t going to force himself away from this. Not even if the camp knew. Arthur wanted this for so long and it was better to stay in this soft bliss rather than force himself away for anyone else’s sake.

“Morgan, Morgan where are you?” Bill called from the campgrounds.

“Ignore him,” John muttered into Arthur’s chest, his hand slowly slipping through his shirt.

Arthur hummed in response, only massaging at John’s scalp. Their shared warmth and scent was more than comforting, he could always get used to this.

“Arthur!” Dutch called out next, “Arthur, where are you?”

The alpha grumbled, his body tensing to the point of John being uncomfortable by his rigidness.

 _No, stay here_. John’s hands slipped down Arthur’s broad back then outlined over his backside. “Arthur...”

He knew he should’ve been torn but Arthur was still fully planted in John’s hold.

“Arthur Morgan!” Dutch called out another time and the alpha jolted up from John’s hold.

 _Damn it_.

He grumbled to himself, forcing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets before looking back at John stretched out behind him. The blanket was tugged down to his thighs, revealing the omega’s naked form.

Arthur felt a pleased growl lodge itself in his throat then tossed the blanket further up to John’s shoulder. “Don’t get up.”

“Ain’t worth it now.” John sat up, putting his hand in his hair.

With a start, Arthur left John’s tent, scratching at his beard and readjusting his clothes. “I’m here.”

“Thank god, boy. We need your help with that O’Driscoll.” Dutch took grip of Arthur’s shoulder, who tensed and hoped that the pack leader forgot what John smelled like.

He knew that he reeked of the omega, down to his breath that he now wished was washed with bourbon. Not the taste though, still a hint of honey.

“I ain’t no O’Driscoll, mister!” The enemy sigma they picked up from Mrs. Adler’s homestead was now being threatened with a pair of red hot pliers on his testicles.

“Now son, we’ve heard it before. I want to hear something new!” Dutch pointed at Bill, who shifted the pliers further up the young man’s groin.

By the look in his eyes, he was itching to fully neuter him. Arthur rolled his shoulders back, walking over to the young sigma and placing his hand on head.

“You gonna talk, boy?” Arthur said, his voice rumbling in a strong growl. He stared down at the sigma as his short nails started to dig into his shoulder.

“Where is Colm O’Driscoll?” Dutch questioned, Bill hovering over the boy’s junk, getting closer and closer to snipping them clean off.

“I told you, I don’t know them! They ain’t friends of mine, I’ve just ridden with them a while.” Kieran struggled to speak fully, his throat clasping for air as his face was dripping in fear.

Arthur gave the boy a quick shake, reminding him how unsteady Bill’s hands were. The crazed alpha’s hands wavered slightly, close to burning a triangular outline on the sigma’s pale thigh.

“You see we heard that part, so how about you tell us the truth.” Dutch was poised and calm, cleaning at his pocketwatch for the time.

“What d’ya want me to do, Dutch?” Bill’s question came out with a wild pant, his dark eyes blowing out in the sense of violence.

“Hurt him! So the next time he opens his mouth it is to tell us where Colm is!”

Arthur gave the boy another shake, his grasp digging deep as he forced Kieran to look down at Bill’s volatile threat.

“Who am I kidding, all O’Driscoll’s tell is lies. Geld him,” Dutch ordered to Bill, who was eager to put a squeeze on the red-hot clamps.

As Kieran started to put up wild, crying protests, John finally emerged from his tent. The omega started over to the fuss, hanging back to watch the three alphas terrorize the sigma they’d picked up.

“They’re only balls, boy, only gonna cause you trouble!” Dutch mused over Kieran’s protests.

“What do you want from me?” Kieran, face full of tears, asked between the three wild-eyed superiors.

Dutch cut the distance between himself and the boy, pointing in the sigma’s face. “You are going to talk, the only question is now or after we cut your fellers off.”

“Okay!” Kieran breathed harshly before bringing his head up from Bill’s possible assault on his family jewels. “Okay, listen. I know where O’Driscoll is holed up. He’s at Six Point cabin.”

The sigma’s chest started wracking with fear cries as Bill was shrugged of his tongs. Arthur scrunched his nose up at the overwhelming, downright shit smell coming from Kieran. A warding scent too late.

He backed away from the boy, let him reclaim whatever dignity he had left. Arthur leaned into his collar, hoping the offending odor hadn’t seeped into his clothes only to find the calming scent of John there.

He froze, gave a quick glance around before building up his hardened demeanor.

“I’ll take you there. I don’t like him. I mean, like him less than I like you. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken,” Dutch said with a quick tilt of his head and shrug of a shoulder.

Arthur took hold of the boy’s shoulder again, digging in deeper so the sigma could feel the amount of restraint the alpha still had. “I got this, Dutch. You best not be lying to us, boy.”

He unsheathed his knife and quickly freed the boy’s wrists from behind him. Arthur shoved the boy forward, letting him scurry to find his balance as he readjusted his pants.

“John, Bill, let’s ride.”

John turned and followed after the alpha with Bill trailing with him. Arthur shoved the sigma a second time, the boy’s warding scent wafting throughout the camp.

“Bill, you ride with him.” Arthur gave the boy over to the other alpha marching towards his Clydesdale. “And control yourself, boy. You’re stinking up the place.”

He knew that the smell had seeped into his clothes now, he just knew it. It was a type of invisible weight on his shoulders, not surrounding by John’s scent.

John boarded his horse, noticing Arthur’s grimace. “You okay?”

“‘M fine. That sigma boy’s scent is on me. I smell like shit.” The alpha turned up his nose at himself. It was disgusting like a film all over his skin.

John shook his head with a huff. “Bet you love being secondhand right now.”

Arthur outwardly growled, shifting his shoulders as if the scent could come off of him. John watched the alpha act like a boy before he finally boarded his shire and stomached through the rescenting.

Reaching out for the shire’s reins, John leaned over to Arthur and rubbed his face on the man’s shoulder, up to his neck before straightening up.

“Better?” John asked, feeling Arthur’s scent seep into his skin as it already was.

Arthur didn’t want to say anything, not realizing how anxious he’d felt in the sigma’s cloud of ward. But his shoulder hinting at the scent of John was now bringing him level again.

He looked at the omega with blank eyes, knowing that this would have to be talked about eventually just like everything else. “Yeah. Thanks.”

John raised his brows at Arthur’s lengthened stare then jolted as the man brought his bottom lip in to whistle.

“Let’s ride!”

_Arthur didn’t want to believe anything that Hosea told him a long time ago. He remembered being sat down the first rut he had, being taught that he had to be careful with his teeth._

_And rarely, getting too close to someone ended up with the same result. But now here it was._

_He felt it pull like a heavy chain in the middle of his chest the further Bodaceia was led away. Arthur kept staring over his shoulder in the direction he was going, ready to jump off of his horse and chase after the pull._

_John was at the end of it, he knew. It was felt the night before. Maybe it was earlier than that, he couldn’t really tell._

_He was around John so much that the pull was too calm to be noticed._

In a roundabout of the cabin, Arthur, Bill and John hitched their horses on the south side. The three dismounted, approaching the rundown cabin in a crouch.They stopped off behind a couple of delta O’Driscolls marking trees and talking to one another.

Arthur nodded to Bill for stealth kills as John took it upon himself to clamp his hand over the sigma Kieran’s mouth. Arthur was not wrong in being upset in the boy’s smell, it was like a skunk’s spray.

The two alphas snuck up behind the two O’Driscolls and slit their throats, a splash of blood hitting at Arthur’s cheek.He grimaced lowly, wiping the blood down his jaw with the back of his hand before calling John to join them.

The omega pushed Kieran forward before leaving him behind a rock as a shootout started.

Arthur took lead between his revolver and repeater as Bill and John plucked off runners before they got far. He really should’ve thought about beeswax for his nose, the offending camp burning with a mix of heats and ruts and warding scents.

It was safe to assume there was at least three of each kind, omegas, deltas and sigmas. At least it wasn’t full of alphas, otherwise Arthur would’ve been rearing up, his skin prickling with an animalistic growl in his chest.

He pushed himself up from behind his cover as the coast was clear then made his way to the cabin. Ready to kick the cabin door open, Arthur was caught off-kilter as an O’Driscoll pushed the door back.

On his back, Arthur stared down the barrel of a shotgun, his gun kicked across the dirt. _Shit._

John and Bill both froze at the altercation, the omega ready to rear up and attack the O’Driscoll. But that would’ve killed Arthur.

“Arthur!” he called out, with the alpha looking upside down to his pack mates frozen with no possible moves.

He tried to hide an outward clench as the gun was cocked and a shot went off, but when Arthur looked back up at the sigma there was hole drilled in his forehead.

The old man slumped to the side, releasing the gun from his hands and dropping it on Arthur’s chest. He looked around for an answer to who helped and saw the dirty sigma holding a gun.

With a relieved shift of his shoulder, Arthur sat up with a glance to John who was also visibly relieved. He gathered himself up and muttered his thanks to Kieran before stepping into the cabin, finding it empty.

 _Shit!_ Arthur turned around quickly, the growl in his chest creeping up his throat and making it horribly audible. Bill stood by, unfazed, but Kieran ducked his head slightly and John didn’t want to recognize what was happening to him, his pants getting damp.

“Colm O’Driscoll ain’t here,” Arthur started, every word seeping with frustration as he stepped towards the sigma. “You set us up.”

He reached for the boy’s collar as he questioned ‘what’ and dragged Kieran into the cabin to see it was empty.

“You set us up!” Arthur felt that red was starting to seep into his vision, tunneling to a haze. His aggression was waking up his full alpha.

“N-no, I didn’t.”

“Colm O’Driscoll ain’t here,” barked the alpha again, ready to pull the sigma up until he couldn’t touch the ground. He was ready for this kid to squirm out an answer.

“He was here, I-I swear...” the boy’s eyes were wild as they scrambled between the alpha before him and the pack mates close behind. “If I was setting you up, I wouldn’t have saved you.”

“It’s a good point, Arthur,” the other alpha added, clearly amused.

Arthur’s growl reached its apex before leveling off and stopping. “Alright then, go. Get outta here.”

The sigma once again questioned ‘what’ as the alpha released his collar and shoved him off.

“Get lost!” Arthur snarled, his teeth baring.

John forcefully turned himself away from the alpha’s display of aggression, already feeling his hips start to ache as slick dripped down his thighs. He folded his hand over his mouth, rolling his eyes behind his lids as he tried to take his mind off of it.

Bill spared a chuckle at John’s expense, turning away from the omega’s incoming stench.

“Control yourself, Marston,” the alpha said as he returned his attention to the main show.

“But...I didn’t set you up,” the sigma spoke, his weasly form curling.

Arthur’s growl started again, his shoulders shifting up. “I ain’t done seeing red, boy. I’m letting you run away.” He took a heavy step towards the sigma, watching Kieran scurry back in fear. “Now go on! Get outta here!”

“That’s as good as killing me!”

Arthur’s mouth opened, his nose scrunching as his normally human teeth started to sharpen. The string of saliva between them vibrated as the pull in his chest whipped up in an excited circle.

He acknowledged the feeling with a glance over to Bill, who was practically sitting by ready to kill the sigma, and John, very close to breaking down in a presentation.

Arthur reeled back suddenly at the scent he finally recognized. _Fuck, not now._ He was ready to tear the boy limb from limb but John was making it hard to focus his aggression.

The sigma noticed the shift in Arthur’s eyes, the cerulean pulsing before blowing to a thin ring. “Colm O’Driscoll’s gonna lose his mind about this,” he hinted.

Arthur dragged his eyes from John to look at the sigma, sniffing in and remembering the boy’s shit smell. “So?”

“So I’m one of you now.” Kieran insisted, standing firmly now.

Arthur reached for his face, rubbed his palm over it as his forehead got tight in agitation. “Gimme a break. Alright, then.” He caved, much to Bill’s arguing in the background.

He wasn’t able to hold himself up in this, not with John around. If it were any other omega, it wouldn’t matter.

“But I’m warning you,” he started, raising his finger to point in the boy’s face.

The sigma nodded eagerly and Arthur pushed past him, purposefully avoiding touching the boy. “Let’s get back to camp.”

“What about the stash in the cabin?” Kieran spoke up from behind as Bill whistled for his horse.

The other two followed after, stopping short of the cabin. Arthur hid a frustrated groan, turning around again. “What stash, boy?”

“They usually, uh, hide some cash in the chimney.” Kieran pointed over his shoulder to the cabin and Arthur lolled his head on both shoulders.

He started towards the cabin with an order for Bill to take the sigma back to camp, alive. At the doorway, Arthur worked his furrowed brow with his thumb and index finger, kneading it.

"John, get in here.” He ordered, side-stepping to allow the omega inside.

John swallowed thickly and did as he was told, with Arthur shutting the door behind him. He watched the alpha pace by the door, his hand kneading his brow now clasped over his beard.

John leaned against the back wall, waiting for Arthur to speak or wear a line in the floor, whichever came first.

Arthur didn’t know where to start. Could he ask John if he still loved him? He felt it, but he wanted to hear the words again. Maybe then he could parrot them back, knowing that it was the truth. Then it would get easier with time. He’d be able to say it all the time, when John was asleep, when he was making John sweat, when they sat across each other for breakfast or when he was writing it in his journal.

He could ask John if he felt the pull. That was a given, otherwise the pull in Arthur’s chest would just worm limply, hoping to have an anchor.

_Love me, John. Tell me what to do. Tell me something._

Arthur couldn’t find anything to settle on, his mind fighting to swim above the scent that was filling up the cabin. God, John smelled sweet. He sloshed his tongue in his mouth and tried to remember the taste.

He was ready to put his fist through the wall or his own head. The tightening in his jeans was not swaying the conversation to anything of significance. If Arthur acted like last night, he’d be ordering John naked again and drinking him up with a straw.

John whistled for Arthur’s attention. The alpha stopped suddenly and snapped to look at John.

“What?” He asked with Arthur’s wild look baring into him.

“You doin’ it on purpose, Marston?” Arthur finally settled on, turning to the omega and reaching for his shirt buttons. “Stopping me up with your slick?”

“I ain’t doin’ it on purpose. It’s your fault your growl does it.” John crossed his arms, Arthur shedding his shirt and going for his pants next.

He was not going to be swayed this way, Arthur started talking and he’d have to finish talking. John ignored the alpha’s build, the ripple of his stomach and the patch of hair planted on his chest.

“Oh it is, huh? Why is that?” Arthur walked over to John, pinning his hands on either side of the omega’s body. He leaned into John’s neck, nudging his nose on his scent gland.

The alpha’s knees buckled but he hid it by closing the distance between them. Why couldn’t he talk? He wanted to say what he needed to. We’re connected, John. It’s because we’re bonded.

John hummed, the tug in his chest strumming happily to the opposite beat of Arthur’s heart. “Dunno, what’d’you think it is?” He reached for the alpha’s chest, running his fingers through the wiry hair planted there before landing square in middle.

Arthur jerked at John’s touch of the pull, it livening with a warm flush. He pulled back, staring down at where John’s was on his chest. Go on.

“We’re bonded,” the alpha said, his voice now small but sweet to John’s ears.

That was a good place to start. John exhaled a heavy breath, something he didn’t feel he was holding in. His hand went from Arthur’s chest to his cheek, pulling him to rest their foreheads together.

“Yeah, ya big dumb idiot,” John said, shutting his eyes as his tug started to flush with warmth too.

Arthur leaned in again with a low purr, slipping from his conversational self into the instinct. He needed more sweet slick in his mouth, on him, out and in the air. He wanted it out that way.

“John,” Arthur started, his voice gravelly and heavy.

“Yeah, I know,” the omega scoffed, opening his eyes and undoing his belt.

“N-no. We....”

“If you say we can’t, I will chew a hole in your shoulder,” John said, leaning his head back.

Arthur wanted to. His dick ached for a sheath of John, slick covering his thighs, but no. Just because the bond told them to, didn’t mean they had to.

“We...should get this place looted.” He took a step back, readjusting his pants before grabbing his shirt from the floor.

John rolled his eyes and went to open cabinets, taking what he found and putting them in his bag. Arthur forced his hand up the chimney, feeling at the divet behind the brick before pulling out a chunk of paper. 

“You get anything good?” Arthur asked, purposefully ignoring what they just acknowledged.

“Yeah,” John raised a half-bottle of bourbon. “I did. Wanna share?”

Arthur forced out a breathy chuckle, remembering too many nights of them pulling from a bottle after Hosea and Dutch was asleep.

“You know I do.”

Back at camp, John and Arthur separated themselves. The bottle was going to have to wait another day because whatever was meant to happen at the cabin was wearing on them.

John paced inside his tent, ignoring the slick going tacky in his pants. He needed to bathe, a full bath. Not just some whore’s bath on the back side of Pearson’s tent.

He forced himself outside, making his only mission to the river to scrub the frustration away with his quarter bar of soap. Ducking under one of the clotheslines, he snatched down a clean cloth and continued down the moonlit trail.

Arthur, however, was itching to take someone’s scout position. Anything was better than letting his hands idle. He was already thinking of dropping his pants and squeezing his throbbing cock until ropes of cum expelled, then keep going until he was empty and no longer thinking of John only the raw tenderness of himself.

That was selfish, though, and as he started towards Sean taking scout Arthur noticed a rustle down the worn-in trail by the side of camp. He tilted his head, carefully making out John’s mussed dark brown hair before the scent made its way.

A bath that the omega strongly needed, Arthur admitted to himself. He was filmed with a heat sweat and now new slick. What a waste of such a concentrated sweet.

“Need something, Arthur?” Sean asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“N-no, it’s alright. Go on back t’your...watching.” The alpha started after the omega, shifting down the steep hill before leveling out on the path.

He continued after John until he whistled at the main path. “You going swimming?”

John glared at Arthur as the alpha stopped at the banks, kneeling down to splash his face with water.

“That ain’t funny.”

Arthur hid a smile to the water, the moon’s reflection dancing across his face. John exhaled heavily, looking away and unbuttoning his shirt. He was quiet with his undressing then waded into the water.

The omega’s breath caught in his throat, his arms folding over his chest as he gritted his teeth so they wouldn’t chatter. Arthur looked up from the water to see John halfway into the river, the cold water slowly enveloping just along his waist.

“Don’t go too far now,” Arthur added, a hint of concern mixed with his teasing. “Here.”

He tossed out the bar of soap to the omega. Arthur sat back, kicking his boots off and rolling his pants up to his knees to rest his feet in the water. John’s mouth pursed as he breathed through the chill, lathering up his soap bar and sliding it over his arm then the other before scrubbing at his chest.

“And behind your ears,” Arthur said from the banks.

John shut his eyes, trying to force the slight smile on his lips away. “Don’t you got better things to do?”

“What? Stare at Uncle?”

“Or start a fight with Micah?” John asked over his shoulder before raising his arm to lather under it.

Arthur growled lowly, trying to push the thought of the alpha away. If he saw him again, he’d go for his throat. He tried to come into the tent when John was asleep, Micah didn’t deserve to even think of it.

“Nope, just watching my bonded bathe like a little bird,” Arthur finally said, pushing the aggression from his body and into his aching crotch.

He needed relief, especially after today. Arthur thought that he was above the release every time, but his body was proving him wrong. Two nights pent up was not meant for alphas.

John turned his face away, rinsing the suds from his body. He liked the sound of ‘bonded’, almost as final as ‘mate’. While he loved to hear it, he wanted to hear something else a little more.

“I ain’t a bird,” John said, tossing the soap bar back to the banks before dipping his hands in the water and bowling it over his hair to get it damp.

He kneeled in the river further, letting more water seep into his locks before he combed them out.

“You seen your chest?” Arthur couldn’t help it, seeing John’s lean body gleam with a new shine.

“Fuck you,” John barked over his shoulder. “You love it.”He sloshed his thigh up, diluting the slick that was there, revealing a bare cheek to Arthur.

Arthur’s eyes devoured the pale skin revealed from the water, the way it jostled the mostly still water to waves and how it jiggled supplely. He was leaning forward now, pressing his rough palm to his pants. It was no longer a sore ache, now it was a steady throb.

This omega was in front of him earlier and like an idiot, he turned away. Now he really regretting it.

He nodded to himself, John was right. There wasn’t one thing about the omega that Arthur didn’t love. Even the new scars on his cheek, he could trace them forever and kiss them when John was asleep.

Immediate confliction, the desire for John and the love of him took turns at his dick and heart. He worried his brow over, undoing his pants button and adjusting his length.

“You’re right,” Arthur said, forcing himself back with low wince.

John rinsed away the slick from his other thigh, ignoring the chilling seize of his blushed folds. “Hand me that cloth, will ya?”

He turned in the water and started back to the banks, noticing Arthur’s rigid body. The alpha quickly reached for the cloth, held it out to hide John’s stark nakedness.

“Naked as a jay bird,” Arthur breathed as a joke.

“Ain’t nothing you haven’t seen lately,” John retorted, swiping his arms with the cloth.

Arthur’s heart clutched, the pull in his chest doing circles. Yes, he’d seen it the night before but he never tired of it. Minutes could be spent on the young outlaw’s face alone, hours on the curve of his hips and the dip in them.

The alpha wanted to nuzzle the omega’s pouch of a stomach, his need to make it sore and full of his seed.

“You’re right,” Arthur repeated, softer. He pushed up to his feet, grabbing his boots and turning away. “You gonna get dressed or what?”

“What, I can’t air dry?” John teased before reaching for his pants, now fully out of the water.

“And catch your death out here? Wasn’t that river enough?”

John leaned over to Arthur, nudging the big man’s arm with the top of his head. He already wanted the alpha’s scent over him. “It ain’t that bad when I got you to warm me up.”

“So this is just us now?” Arthur asked innocently. He wanted to know if he was right to push himself away.

John looked up at the man from the undercrest of his brows, “You not want it to be?”

“No, no. That ain’t it.” _I just want to know if it’s wrong that I can’t speak. I want to know if you aren’t going to resent me for this. I want to know if you love me._

“We’re bonded already, dummy. What, you think that just goes away if you want it to?” John stood upright, pulling on his shirt with a harsh couple of tugs before grabbing his boots.

“No, John, that ain’t it.”

“Then what, Arthur? You want me or not? Seems like you been wrestlin’ with the thought for a while now.” John started trampling back to camp, not waiting for the alpha to trail after him.

“Marston! Don’t be going, saying that. I ain’t trying to push you away, I just...” _Can’t fucking speak when I want to. Fuck._

John stopped, dropping his shoulders and exhaling to the sky. “You just what, Arthur? You ‘can’t’? ‘It ain’t how it’s ‘sposed to go’?”

Arthur firmly believed that his previous problem was deflated now. The look on John’s face was enough to assure that. The slight sneer on his lips, cutting his stitched cheek in half and revealing his omegan canines. He cut the distance between them, seeing John’s body tense on the defensive.

“You know that ain’t it. You know how I feel ‘bout you.” Arthur reached out for the omega’s shoulder only for John to shrug away.

“Do I, Arthur? ‘Cause I know I said it, but you seem to keep choking on air.” John narrowed his eyes at the alpha before him. So it was now. “It can’t be that hard. I love you, Arthur. Arthur Morgan, I love you. You big dumb alpha idiot, I love you. You red-faced angry ball of fucking nerves, I—“

Arthur was quick with his lips to John, if only to silence him. Maybe to siphon the words he was about to say just to throw them back in his face. Of course he loved him, of course he did.

Why it was so hard to say, he didn’t know. Maybe it’d only solidify how easy John was to lose the first time. It’d definitely cement the guilt wedged into Arthur’s stomach, making knots of his guts for not going back when he was supposed to, damn it.

The cord told him to, his body practically pulled towards him, but Arthur still went the wrong way from his bonded.

John wanted to fight, dropping his boots from his hand and balling his fists to pound the alpha’s shoulders. Arthur didn’t hold him in, though, only grabbing one of John’s hips and edging him forward.

Arthur’s tongue was lavish, his scarred lips chapped from the sun but still so soft. John wanted to fight, but what was the point? He’d missed that first kiss, remnant on his lips like a whisper. Now it was fuller, longer, without the risk of getting caught.

He languidly curved into Arthur’s body, melding to the alpha’s heat and releasing a low hum of approval.

When Arthur pulled away, John waited in anticipation for his return. _One more time, just a little longer_. Instead, the alpha nudged his nose to John’s, letting the omega rub his cheek.

Still, he couldn’t say it. “You know how I feel,” he whispered, ignoring the feeling of John’s brows furrowing together.

“Just...fucking say it, Arthur. Damn you,” John grabbed onto the front of Arthur’s shirt, holding him near.

Arthur wanted to shrivel up, his omega was close to pleading for this to come from his mouth. Still, he choked, swallowing harshly as he pulled away from John first.The omega finally growled, a punitive thing from his throat instead of his chest. John picked up his shoes, pushed past Arthur again and stormed into camp.

Arthur watched him go, only to follow in a trail of unwarranted dewy air, hinted with slick. _That definitely made it better._ He didn’t even acknowledge the other half, he already knew it was there. Throbbing unnecessarily from the little nudge John gave it.Arthur stopped outside of John’s tent, peering in to the omega pacing. With a step inside, John bared his teeth.

“Easy. I’m sorry,” Arthur started with the omega returning to his own wearing of the ground.

“That ain’t good enough, Arthur!” John shouted, only to be pacified by Arthur’s mild shushing. He swallowed, tilting his jaw as he did then tried again. “It ain’t good enough. I want words.”

John’s tug in his chest was tilting down, wiggling low, mirroring the disappointed look on Arthur’s face. Arthur’s pull was whipping in a frenzy, each step of John’s a heavy strum as the omega tangled the invisible cord between them around him.

“John...”

He needed to breathe, he needed to calm himself. John didn’t think he’d get this upset from the alpha’s simple question. It was because Arthur wasn’t expecting it, to be so comfortable and not mentally whipping himself for his mistakes.

“You know I don’t hate you for leaving me out there,” John finally said, his voice metered. He turned to the alpha sitting on the floor. “ _You know_ I don’t, right?”

Arthur perked up at John, staring into his dark brown eyes. He didn’t speak, only nodded. He didn’t like to talk about what happened. Arthur didn’t want it to brought up. He could stare at the wolf maims on the omega’s body forever, knowing that it was a part of John, but he also wanted to take them all to his own.

“I don’t, Arthur.”

He knew that now. He knew it a week ago, he knew it whenever John looked at him and didn’t immediately turn up his nose in disgust or push past him with indignation.

“I know,” Arthur said with a pitiful tone. The alpha’s head almost hung low as the pull in his chest started to untangle itself. “But I didn’t want to leave you out there. I was coming to get you.”

John walked over to Arthur, knelt before him. “I know you were.”

“But damn Bill and Dutch for stopping me, the storm rolling in. I was gonna get you. I wasn’t gonna leave you like that.” Arthur’s nose suddenly pinched and he bit the feeling away. Fuck, this was not what he was supposed to be doing.

“I hate myself for not pushing more. I would’ve shot those bastards before they even tried to come near you. I should’ve been right there with you, at least. John, y-you gotta believe that.”

John lowered himself further to the floor, his legs now draping over Arthur’s thighs. “I know, stop worryin’ that empty little head a yours. I think I see smoke.”

Arthur gave a dry chuckle at the omega’s attempt. He turned his face away as he gave his nose a hard pinch to steel away the feeling. John reached for Arthur’s scraggly cheeks, making him look back.

“I don’t hate you, you giant lug. And I know you don’t hate me.” John immediately quirked a brow. “You don’t, right?”

That brought a genuine chuckle from the alpha. He shook his head in John’s hold, “Of course not. Though I ain’t a fan of the slick pacifier.”

“That ain’t my fault. You dial it back a few times and I won’t have to coddle you none.”

Arthur huffed, “That boy today. Dumb as a rock.”

“And I’m surprised you don’t get along,” John said with a sly smile. Arthur’s glare was enough to keep him from laughing. “Just start there. ‘I don’t hate you, John’.”

The alpha scrunched his nose, “I don’t hate you, John. In fact, I like you. I like you quite a lot.” He was leaning in now, ready to kiss the omega again.

“Alright, alright, stop while you’re gettin’ somewhere,” John said, leaning away with a low laugh.

Arthur started a low growl in his chest, his arms now reaching out to curl around John’s waist. He continued after the omega, finally settling at his neck and bending over him. John was sprawled onto the floor now, his hands now stretched over his head like a lazy cat.

The alpha’s hands slipped up John’s waist, roaming over his stomach and up to his chest before tugging the two parts open. John grumbled in response, only to be occupied by the lapping of his neck, the gentle milking of his scent gland.

That was definitely new, the omega didn’t know it felt that ticklish all the way down to between his hips. Arthur’s teeth lined at the joining of John’s shoulder to his neck, grazing over the skin there before lapping at the oil that came forth.

His hands busied at exposing John, already wading the young outlaw’s pants down to his knees. Arthur shifted, kneeling on the pants of his bonded and tugging them away as one hand reached for John’s nipple.

“Arthur,” John hissed lowly, the alpha’s finger pinching at the tan bud and rolling it between his fingers. The omega made another low sound, something close to a plea for him to keep going.

Arthur grinned, pulling from John’s worn-in gland and catching his lips in a kiss. His free hand petted at the fur between the omega’s hips, chuckling at the dampness of it before slipping a finger down to trace.

John lost his breath, one of his hands reaching for Arthur’s shirt and bundling it tightly. His hips lifted to encourage the alpha further, touch him more.

Arthur didn’t factor in John’s body being neglected too. But he felt the omega’s body heating up and going plaint, slick trickling onto Arthur’s pants before he was even at the well.

“Does it ache?” He whispered against John’s lips, his finger parting the slick folds apart, feeling at the soft that was opening to him.

John nodded hastily, wanting Arthur to stop teasing him. He’d had enough of that, he wanted definites.

“Fuck me, dammit.” His patience was absolutely depleted, his knuckles going white from gripping Arthur’s shirt so hard.

Arthur smiled deviantly, looking over John’s exposed body, his skin rippling pink and shuddering at touch. Well, if he said to.

The alpha removed his hand from John’s slickened folds and undid his belt with a flourish. Barely fumbling with the buttons, Arthur shoved his pants down just enough to free his dick, throbbing. He edged his tip along John’s well, feeling ready to explode before being enveloped. John bit back a wanting hum, his hips following Arthur’s slow movements to sheath the man inside him.

The alpha slipped in with a satisfying, only felt, pop that made John sigh. Arthur steadied himself with an exhale before sliding further, nudging against the spot in the omega craved to be touched.

John’s hand quickly unfurled from Arthur’s shirt and slipped under it. He wanted to feel all of this man against him.

The alpha focused on easing his length into John, already pushing up to the soft cushion at the base of the omega’s lean stomach. He didn’t poke at it, only rubbed his thumb over the small peak that now appeared in John’s skin.

John tore Arthur’s shirt from his body, shoving it down the alpha’s arms to rest at his elbows. His leg hooked behind Arthur’s, forcing the rest of his length inside.The omega threw his head back with a low moan, his nails starting in Arthur’s shoulder. The man hadn’t even started a pace yet and John was already seeing stars.

Arthur knew how far he was in, how aching it was to pull out halfway to start a pace. But once he started, he was hard to stop. John’s pinning leg made sure of that, allowing his short thrusts to rattle the omega before making note of trying long strokes.

John was curled onto Arthur, one hand in the man’s chestnut hair as he huffed over the alpha’s shoulder. He wanted to reek like him for weeks, let him seep into every inch of skin and alter his well being to only think of him.

Arthur kept up his pace, raising to his knees and bending one of John’s legs up to his chest, allowing him deeper easier. The omega’s slick drizzled out, coating both of their thighs and making an impure schluck every time their skin slapped together.

John was soon pressing his hand to Arthur’s chest, wanting to express that it was getting too much, the temperature was rising in his body and was coming to a boil. His voice was reduced to pants of Arthur’s name, strews of swears and plaintive mews.

Arthur enjoyed that part, seeing this outlaw reduced to dirty moans and back arching. He could never get enough of this, taking in all of John’s expressions as his brows furrowed together, sweat beading his forehead and making his hair stick to his skin.

The alpha leaned in, taking John’s bottom lip in his teeth with a soft purr. John’s nails embedded into Arthur’s pec as he felt himself tightening up, all of it exploding inside him as he came.

“Goddamn Arthur...” The omega garbled, his bottom lip now Arthur’s favorite chew toy.

His walls tightened around the alpha, urging him to release as well. The coil tightened in his back was finally let free as his knot started to swell just inside John.

Arthur let John’s lip free as he stuttered a final thrust, cum spewing from him and filling up hot omegan walls.

“Damn,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss John, now a sweaty, swollen lipped mess.

John looked down at their connection, feeling the sturdy plug of Arthur’s knot and the hot gushes inside him. Arthur was grossly intrigued, noticing John was rolling his shoulders in comfort from being bred.

At least it was outside of heat. But their bodies reacting the same no matter what. The alpha relaxed on John, turning them on their sides as his knot continued to swell.

It’d be a while before it was gone now. After all the pent up, it was not going to be bided away with a firm hand and a coax. John ducked his head to Arthur’s chest as the alpha stripped off his clothes. Like a jackass.

Arthur continued his soft purr, resuming their nightly position to lull the omega to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I said it was a long read but it’s also a shitty formatted read, please excuse my iPad that I write this on, then I usually transcribe but I can’t be bothered to get up rn. 
> 
> I want to apologize to the people (if anyone) who were hoping that I’d post a chapter everyday. 
> 
> I also own ACNH and I don’t know how to prioritize my time. Also, while you’re reading this, the BLM movement will be happening and I’ll drop my twitter/instagram handle so you can stay updated with where to sign petitions and where to donate. (@t_telecast)
> 
> But uh....I love these two. gotta love actually emotional cowboys. Plus I enjoy the thought of Arthur being pacified with p*ssy. Like:
> 
> Arthur: I’m so angry, fuck you, I’ll punch you, don’t make me fight you
> 
> John: goddamnit it, not again
> 
> Arthur: I now require p*ssy power pls
> 
>   
> Alright, I’m Done. I’m officially losing my mind and I need to sleep.


	9. Don't Push Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bonded pair wake up on better terms, and they spend another week together. 
> 
> Soon, they can't get enough of each other.

Arthur woke up with John shuffling beside him, nuzzling his face on his bicep. The outside noise started seeping in, a couple of girlish giggles and hushed speaking. The alpha ignored it, his other arm around John pulling him closer until the omega’s thigh was almost draped over his hip.

“We ain’t gettin’ up today,” Arthur muttered into John’s now dry hair, sticking wildly to his skin.

“Bout broke my back last night. We better not,” John hissed, shifting a hip closer to Arthur’s.

Arthur slowly peeked an eye open, seeing John remain in his arms, unbothered and peaceful. In the opening of the tent, however, he noticed an audience of eyes staring.

The alpha whistled sharply, his bottom lip taken in his teeth before barking lowly. “Go on, get outta here. This ain’t a show, ladies.”

John opened his eyes, glancing over his shoulder to see Karen and Mary-Beth giggling and scattering from the crack of the tent. Arthur’s hand slipped down the curve of John’s body, tracing over the man’s bare hip before firmly tapping his cheek.

“You watch that hand,” John muttered, turning back into the alpha’s chest with a measly yawn.

“I ain’t takin’ my eyes off it,” Arthur responded, shifting his hand further down John’s backside.

He grinned tiredly at the seep of cool juices down his hip, his fingers making their way down to John’s recently bred well.

“Nasty, Marston. Ain’t cleaned up?” He whispered into the omega’s dark hair as his fingers slowly prodded in, making a vulgar noise. Arthur hid a roll of his eyes as John mouthed at his chest, stifling a low moan.

He wanted to see this sight, his seed still leaking from John. The thought alone made him hard.

John took his hand from around Arthur, slithering it between them and taking hard grip of the alpha’s dick.

“Weren’t my fault.” John lazily tugged at the outlaw’s hardened length, shifting his leg further up.

“Takes two, John,” Arthur whispered as the omega shifted up, his lips passing over Arthur’s.

The alpha rolled to his back, a gentle feat, as John hitched his leg over his waist. Arthur suddenly had a handful of the omega’s soft ass, gently kneading the supple skin now soft and dry again. He was dripping onto Arthur’s waist as he pulled his hand back.

“We’ll see about that,” John whispered against Arthur’s lips, guiding the man inside him.

He hovered slowly, easing the alpha’s length inside of him before exhaling and letting the rest in with a downward slap of his hips. John’s other hand went for Arthur’s stomach, already panting over the act just started.

Arthur folded his free arm behind his head, sitting up slightly to watch John writhe on him. He offered heavy snarl for John to produce slick. His nails digging into the omega’s flesh, he guided him up slowly then brought him back down with another slap of his hips.

The alpha’s eyes fluttered slightly as John slowly slid up and came back down with another slap. Painstakingly slow, Arthur tried to let John at it but finally huffed like a wild animal. He grabbed at John’s knee, shifting him around on his dick with a shiver from the omega.

With his back to Arthur, John was suddenly on his arms and knees, dropped low to where his stomach almost grazed the floor.

Arthur’s hand went for the back of John’s neck, forcing him down as his hips rose in instinct. A natural mounting position. He glanced over his shoulder to the alpha, rearing to his knees and kneading harshly at the cheek of his ass.

“We will see,” Arthur growled lowly, his eyes dashing at the position his omega was in.

He snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself fully in John. The omega forced out a moan from his throat, only to take his hand to clamp over his mouth.

“Atta boy,” The alpha praised lowly, his hold on John grazing up to his hip. “I ain’t leavin’ this tent and neither are you. Not ‘till we’re sick of each other.”

His eyes snaked over John’s lengthened back, untouched skin all the way down to where his hand just was. Arthur noticed his fingers had speckled red marks into the omega’s cheek.

That’d be an interesting explanation later.

“I ‘on’t like you right now,” John managed to say before Arthur snapped his hips again, shutting the omega down and causing him to bite at his knuckle.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Arthur purred, lowering John’s hips as he trailed his lips up the young outlaw’s back. He kissed against the back of John’s neck before their lips met.

Arthur caught onto John’s swelling bottom lip and gave it a nibble before glancing out of the tent opening. He grunted at Abigail, puffing up her chest as she barreled towards the tent.

“Fuck,” Arthur whispered, burying his face in John’s neck. He wanted to finish this, stay unbothered by the rest of the gang for one day. Just to sow his bonded omega and let John know that he was above all others.

“I gotta let you off the hook, Marston. That pal of yours is coming with a bee in her bonnet.” Arthur’s breath was hot down John’s back, causing the omega to shiver.

“Don’t ~ stop,” John responded, taking one hand and running it through the alpha’s chestnut hair, feeling his beard scrub at his skin. That stubble had to get shaved soon, John’d give it another day. “Not now.”

Arthur started a mild pace, his hips ramming against John’s flesh. A solid tap, his skin wet from the mix coming out of the omega in spurts. The sound was a dirty music to his ears, raising his face to line his teeth along John’s ear.

He growled lowly, sending a cold chill down John’s spine, withholding a moan in his throat as he brought his knees together.

The warmth started to pool along his back, down through his stomach as his core began to heat from the friction.

“John Marston! You got back here yesterday and ain’t said a single word to me!” Abigail screeched from outside the tent, her palm tapping at the cloth flaps, ultimately stalling the moment.

Arthur snorted in frustration, planting his hands on either side of John and pulling himself off of him. John slowly sat up, the pleasure in his body causing his limbs to feel heavy. He looked over his shoulder to Arthur, hiding his face with his hand folded over his brows.

“Go on,” he whispered, tossing his shirt to the omega.

John slowly stood up, his knees wobbling to keep him up. He pulled on the button-up, fumbling with the buttons before pulling back the tent flap just enough to reveal his face to the sunlight.

He squinted to the bright ring that haloed around his friend, waiting for his eyes to adjust before sucking his teeth. “What?”

“What?” Abigail started, reaching out to swat her omega friend in the forearm. “You leave for a goddamn week and come back, forget I exist?”

John groaned lowly, his hand reaching to rub his eyes. “That ain’t it. Can’t I sleep?”

“What, you ain’t got enough sleep on your trip?” Abigail prodded, her southern voice more on the verge of vinegar than honey.

Arthur pulled his hand away, eyes trained on John keeping Abigail just beyond the tent.

“What if I didn’t?” John retorted, tugging the tent flap tighter around him, keeping the inside scent from her.

“Well, then what were you doing?” Abigail slowly softened, crossing her arms before her chest.

“Sweatin’ out a heat.”

“What, with Arthur around? Why not just stay here?” She started sniffing towards John, who froze rather than retreat in. “You reek like alpha.”

Her eyes slowly narrowed at John then glanced over both shoulders before lowering her voice, “Was it Micah?”

Arthur stood up at that, a possessive pull in his chest at that goddamned alpha’s name. He was waiting for that idiot to slip up so he could be justified in his thoughts of wanting to string him up as bear bait.

He grabbed around John’s waist, feeling him freeze. The omega swatted his hand out, waving Arthur away from him while he was speaking.

“Hell no, you trynna piss me off?” John growled softly.

“Well, if it weren’t Micah...who was it? Was it Bill?” Abigail’s eyebrows were raised now, ready to find out who mounted her friend.

“No, and would you stop fuckin’ askin’?” John snapped immediately.

“Who was it then? You better tell me now, John.” Abigail’s patience suddenly wearing thin, her arms uncrossing to plant her fists on her hips.

“Goddamn, get off my back, woman.”

“Was it Arthur?” Abigail finally asked, all emotion stripping from her face.

John saw it too, standing up straighter at his friend but still hiding the jolt in his body as Arthur gripped his hips again.

He hid another swat to the alpha before clearing his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered.

Abigail stared at her friend for a long moment before sniffing at him again. “It’s that damn bourbon.” She peeked past the sliver of the tent opening that John didn’t occupy, seeing a shift behind him.

She swatted at her friend’s forearm a second time as a quick reprimand. “Don’t go scarin’ me like that, John Marston. Now go.”

Abigail turned away from the tent and John let the flap flutter closed again. He fell back to his knees with Arthur not wasting a second to return to their previous moment.

John hid a snarl in his shoulder, pushing Abigail’s incessant questions from his mind. The warmth in his body was already fading, causing agitation in his shoulders.

“Don’t wanna claim me, Marston?” Arthur asked, pulling the collar of John’s shirt down to kiss between the shoulder blades.

John didn’t want to think, he was ready for the pleasure to return. Arthur eased into him, sheathing quickly before restarting a stuttering pace.

“You want me to?” John replied, his breath teetering out of his chest. His knees were pressed together quickly, lowering his upper body and presenting better for Arthur.

The alpha grinned, a gleam of sweat on his forehead building up a second time. He leaned over John, licked along the young outlaw’s shoulder. “Not yet. Maybe soon.”

That was enough to bring John back to his previous warmth, a moan rattling up his throat before he buried it in his knuckles. Arthur righted himself, reaching around John’s waist and down to press at the omega’s clit.

“N-no,” John stammered, his knees coming apart as his hips started to follow Arthur’s movements.

The coil tightened harshly, rough around the edges as the alpha’s rough fingers circled on him. John lost his breath twice, the pleasure toying to pain and back. His free hand reached back for Arthur’s wrist to stop him, the coil finally breaking.

It was hot, almost too much so as the harsh waves ran over John’s back and caught his body in a lock. His mind went blank, his mouth falling open with an elongated moan.

His well muscled in pattern, coaxing Arthur to release. With a final drive into John, the alpha came.

Holding his knot just outside of the omega, Arthur spilled in spurts. He slowly gasped for air, his throat suddenly parched as he drank in their scented air.

It was more concentrated now, hard to ignore even if they were outside the cabin. Arthur slicked back his damp hair before offering a kiss to the middle of John’s damp back.

Later that evening, John and Arthur emerged from the tent. Their scent was close to one, molding together and embedding fully in their skin. They might as well had been one.

John limped over to Pearson’s stew, with Abigail and Tilly’s concerned looks. He shot Arthur a side glare, claiming he slept on his hip wrong, though the future bruise on his ass would say different.

Arthur chuckled to himself, fully content even as the pull in his chest strummed after John, sitting by the second fire with the rest of the group.

“You get it all outta your system, Morgan?” Bill asked, clamping a firm hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur disguised a displeased growl as a grunt in response. He didn’t need Bill’s sweaty scent ruining what he and John worked so hard on.

“Green ain’t a good color on you, Bill,” he said, bearing a smile. He shrugged his friend’s hand from his shoulder and kept his eye on John, watching him smile and laugh with Abigail and Karen.

John felt Arthur staring at him, his grin only growing at the healthy tug in the middle of his chest. Javier started up a tune on his guitar while Mary-Beth and Tilly talked over what they saw in Valentine.

A week later, Arthur was pouring himself another cup of coffee. He sat at the domino table, rolling his shoulders back. He wasn’t ready to admit that he’d lost track of time with John.In his tent, in their space, it was concentrated and small, only focusing on each other. He enjoyed that. He understood John more than he did himself. Arthur always did.

He sloshed the contents of his cup before taking a sip. At the opening of the camp, dust billowed up in the wake of Lenny’s horse.The boy scrambled off of his steed, barely stopping as the horse skidded to a halt. The camp awake started over to Lenny, who was doubled over himself in a huff.

“Dutch, they got Micah,” The young alpha gulped, trying to catch his breath. His body was racked with a shake, his forehead beaded with sweat.

He also reeked of rut. Arthur left his coffee and started over to the boy as the girls excused themselves.

“What’re you on about, son?” Dutch asked as Lenny finally leveled himself to stand upright.

“We-we was in Strawberry. Micah got in some fight with these other guys, and I got arrested for bein’ with him. ‘Bout strung me up if I hadn’t hightailed outta there. But they got Micah.”

Arthur snorted lowly, turning his head over his shoulder then back. Dutch glanced behind him to his secondhand.

“You have something to say, Arthur?”

The alpha huffed, shaking his head before looking his leader in the eye. “He ain’t right with us, Dutch. So far, all he done caused us is trouble.”

Dutch raised a brow at Arthur, then the other as he looked around the camp. Hosea turned away, making sure Lenny was alright before leading him to sit down. Miss Grimshaw did the same, making her way to get Lenny some coffee and bread.

“Is that what you all think?” He asked, raising his voice to the rest of camp though the answer was clear.

Arthur bit back a strained look when Dutch turned to him again. “I ain’t gettin’ him back for nothin’, Dutch. Either he goes or I do.”

Dutch folded his hand over his chest, “You’d leave me like that, son? Over taking in a stray?”

“A stray that ain’t caused nothin’ but trouble. He ain’t meant with us, he’s out for himself.” Arthur rested his hands on his hips, looking to the morning sky before John emerged from his tent. “He’s been tryin’ to breed John too.”

Dutch glanced over his son’s shoulder to the omega straightening himself in the morning rays. He looked back to Arthur, who was biting back the grit in his teeth.

“I know he ain’t unprotected, Arthur. You think I was born yesterday? You been stinkin’ of John for three weeks.” Dutch pat Arthur’s broad shoulders. “I’ll leave you to this, then. You think it over and let me know.”

The leader excused himself from Arthur, then squeezed at Lenny’s shoulder before walking to his tent.

Arthur bared his teeth then returned to his coffee across from Hosea and Lenny.

“So, Micah finally got what’s coming to him, huh?” Arthur muttered over the lip of his cup.

“Yeah, crazy bastard only got crazier. You shoulda seen him, Arthur,” Lenny said between hearty spoonfuls of his breakfast.

“Shoulda seen who?” John asked, planting himself on Arthur’s knee.

The three men froze at the action, with only John leaning forward to continue Lenny’s conversation. Arthur instinctively curled his free arm around John’s waist and Lenny struggled to find his words again.

“M-Micah. Him and some others in Strawberry got into a fight. He shot the man, Arthur.” Lenny looked between Hosea and John before leaning towards Arthur. “I don’t think he’s got much time left.”

“That’s a shame,” Arthur said into his dwindled coffee. He cross-eyed at the grounds settled in the bottom of his cup then set it down. “He deserves what’s comin’.”

Hosea cleared his throat, giving the older alpha a cross look. Arthur shrugged a shoulder up, “What? It’s true.”

“And you’re telling me that you haven’t done just that or worse?” Hosea added which caused a growl in Arthur’s chest.

John rested his hand on Arthur’s knee, giving it a tight squeeze before he stopped.

“Micah ain’t nothing but bad news, Hosea. Dutch don’t see it but I know you do.” Arthur restrained his aggression for the sake of John.

He noticed the reddish blotches decorating the omega’s neck, not realizing that John was also walking a bit stung. They both needed a break.John was not a toy to wreck, he was his bonded. He felt the pull in his chest flush to John’s back. Arthur nuzzled the side of his face against John’s shoulder before looking to Hosea.

“I know that, Arthur. But he’s not too different than you.”

Arthur’s chest puffed as he tried a growl a second time, only for John’s grip to tighten. John didn’t want to pacify Arthur anymore, for a day at least.

“We ain’t alike.” Arthur looked to Lenny, who was finishing up his stew with a satisfied slurp, then to John, who was already staring at him.

John reached a hand up and pet at the nape of Arthur’s hair in small circles. He’d realized that the alpha liked it in his sleep, it made him purr and hug John tight. “I don’t see it. Arthur’s a good man, Hosea.”

“That’s all fine and good, son, but if Arthur got arrested tomorrow, he’d have the same charge as Micah.” Hosea slowly stood up, “Only yours was from a while ago.”

The pair saw Hosea off. Arthur straightened up and yelled after the elder beta, “I ain’t rescuin’ him!”

“No one said you had to. But what would you want?”

Arthur’s lip curled in a sneer, looking back at John. “I ain’t doin’ it.”

John chuckled, seeing the worry lines crack in the outlaw’s forehead. He continued the motion of petting through Arthur’s nape, bringing forth an involuntary purr. “I know.”

Arthur’s lip peaked further, forcing the rumble in his chest to cease. John leaned in, nudging his nose against the alpha’s neck, just along his scent gland.

Arthur glanced in Lenny’s direction, seeing that the boy was now asleep at the table. He took that moment in pulling John closer, letting him get his fill of his scent.

John let Arthur have his silence, most needed while he mulled over the thought of saving Micah. If he did, he’d have to listen to Micah’s mouth. Letting the alpha live was not something Arthur wanted, could barely stomach.If he didn’t, Dutch and probably Hosea would hold his death over his head for the next two years. Arthur stifled another frustrated growl directly into John’s shoulder, quickly reeling back to make sure he didn’t react.

John was high off of Arthur’s scent again, a feat he never knew could happen as often as it was. Arthur was the only one getting drunk off of John before, now John was breezing through camp for the past week with the alpha’s scent firmly in his nose.

It made him move pointedly, breathing in and going in the direction of Arthur before snapping out of it and going to do some chores. They tried to keep what they could from the camp’s knowledge, but it was idiotic to try.

Not only was John not quiet, but Arthur wasn’t either. No matter how many hands were clamped over each other’s mouths, knuckles bitten into and well-timed kisses, they were heard at any odd hour of the night.

Also, the girls were not quiet about what they saw. In fact, they were excited to share.

“It’s better than to see Arthur mope around like some kicked puppy,” Mary-Beth interjected at breakfast once.

“Arthur? John looked like the torn up one, that’s for sure,” Tilly added in.

“They got each other, I don’t know why they’d try to deny it,” Karen bit at the back end.

John kissed Arthur’s cheek then shoved himself off.“If you ain’t gonna save Micah, might as well help with some chores.”

Arthur’s mouth fell into a natural frown, reaching to scrub at his beard. Of course he could make good use of himself as long as it wasn’t put towards saving that bastard.

He stood up, reaching over the table to jostle the tired youngling. “Come on, son. Let’s get you to bed.”

Lenny grumbled, turning his head to look up at Arthur.“I’m awake, Arthur. Promise.” He slumped back to sleep and the older alpha breathed out a sigh.

Rounding the table, Arthur hoisted Lenny over his shoulder and carried him to his tent. John went to help the girls with scrubbing a few of the camp’s dishes before filling up the wash bins behind Pearson’s wagon.

Arthur moved the feed around to Pearson’s tent, then the hay to the horses before finishing with wood chopping. By that time, the sun was fully overhead, making the alpha sweat along the collar.

He took it as a sign to take a break, washing up and stopping at his camp. John stopped by the camp’s ledger to contribute before looking over to Arthur picking up his razor.

“Wait, you’re shavin’ now?” John asked, walking over to the alpha’s tent and sitting on the edge of his cot. He stared at Arthur through the reflection in his mirror, saw his smirk.

“You done complainin’ about it?” He chuckled, sharpening his razor then applying a shaving lather.

 _No._ John grinned before turning away. He was going to mess with the man a bit longer before it became unbearable. Honestly, he liked Arthur clean-shaved. It showed off one of the man’s many likable features.

“It ain’t that bad,” John said, looking back as Arthur started shaving, his sleeves rolled up and his shirt unbuttoned down to his ribs.

Later that night, Arthur sat at his cot after dinner, staring out at the campfire again before resting on his back.They did need a break. He was kidding about getting sick of the omega. Now that he was close to John again, he couldn’t think about prying himself away.

Why did he do it before? Punishment, he remembered.

_At the newly set up camp in the valley of the mountain, Arthur remained out in the cold, staring in the direction of the pull in his chest. John was out there, he knew it._

_He stood outside, bundling himself as tight as possible before biting the bullet and huddling inside with the horses. It was the closest he could get to John without the skin whipping his exposed face._

_By nightfall, the storm picked up, snow blinding feet before him. He couldn’t make out any light from the darkness, any sounds from the wailing wind._

_Arthur pressed the heel of his palm to his chest, rubbing at the barb wire now firmly tightening. He removed the spare bedroll from Bodaceia and laid against his resting steed, staring through the cracks, hoping to see a lantern in the distance._

_The next morning, Arthur was up before the sun. The storm ceased before he woke and he took that chance to go back. He was quiet as he woke his horse, leading him out of the barn and back into the cold._

_Bodaceia whinnied lowly, Arthur replaced his bedroll under his saddle before patting his horse’s neck and mounting him._

_He clicked his tongue, leading his horse out of the camp quietly. Then he steered back where he came from, following the harsh pull in his chest._

_Arthur didn’t remember how far away John was. The snow carried on for miles, wisping over the tops of mountains and billowing around. He pressed on, sure of himself that he’d know when John was close._

_The pull dragged him on for miles, until the sun was fully overhead. By then, Bodaceia was whinnying and putting up a fight when Arthur clicked his tongue._

_“Come on, boy,” Arthur said, his patience wearing thin. He knew they were getting close, they had to be._

_The pull started whipping wildly as he dismounted from his horse, only to slip in the snow. His grunt and push up from the white surrounding him caused Bodaceia to huff and start up a hill._

_“Hey, where you goin’?” Arthur called after his steed before hearing the wild barking coming. “Bodaceia!” He whistled for his horse, brandishing his weapon at the same time, ready to cast off any wild animals._

_He trudged through the snow after his horse, the pull freeing itself like a reel from a fishing rod. Arthur groaned in disappointment, knowing that he’d have to make up this lost time by pushing his horse twice as hard._

_“Bodaceia!” He called a second time as his steed got further away, running from the wild noise coming from no direction in particular._

_Arthur felt his breath thin as he continued through the snow, picking up his feet to run after his horse as it rounded over the hill and whinnied again._

_The barking grew louder before he heard wild snarling. He ran over the hill, scrambling to gain his bearings before shooing the wolves from digging their teeth into his horse. Anymore._

_“Fuck, Bodaceia.” Arthur shot off another warning to the wolves surrounding his downed horse, taking quick bites at the steed’s soft belly. “Get away from him!”_

_He reloaded his gun, aiming for the wolves directly and taking three of the four down. The last ran off, leaving blood in a trail after him. Arthur couldn’t smell anything from the snow dampening his senses, but the sight was gruesome._

_Bodaceia lifted his head with a few pained snorts, looking at Arthur before trying to kick his feet out. Arthur shuffled down to his horse, taking the steed’s head in his lap as he brushed down his mane._

_He searched his bag for a horse reviver, hoping it was enough to keep Bodaceia alive. But it wouldn’t be even if he had it. The wolves gnawed their way into the horse, leaving his stomach exposed to the cold._

_“Boah, my boah.” Arthur pet down Bodaceia’s face. “You’re alright, boah.”_

_When Bodaceia stopped fighting, stopped breathing, Arthur sat with him until the sun set before him. He pulled himself to his feet, removing the saddle from his steed and giving him a final pat before climbing over the hill again._

Arthur felt a hand on his chest, slipping under his shirt and rubbing at the middle of his chest where his pull was. He felt breath over his face, eyes staring down at him.

“Miss Grimshaw?” He asked jokingly. Arthur’s joke was met with a knee planted firmly at his groin. He grunted, slowly opening his eyes to John. “Oh, it’s you.”

John pressed his knee harder to the alpha’s groin, seeing Arthur hide a hiss in his smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, you ain’t funny.”

“I make myself laugh.” Arthur chuckled lowly, glancing over to the dying campfire then back. “You off to bed?”

John nodded as Arthur’s hand clasped at his cheek then through his hair. “You comin’?”

Arthur still couldn’t wean himself off of John’s night hold, and now that he didn’t have to, he’d never let go. “I’m after you,” he said.

John grinned softly, leaning in with a kiss on the alpha’s lightly scarred lips. “Well come on,” he said, sitting up off of Arthur, slipping his knee off of his groin.

Arthur followed after him, pushing off of his cot and taking John’s lead to his tent. The omega kicked off his boots, undid his belt and climbed onto his bedroll. Arthur did the same, untying his handkerchief from his neck as well before crawling after John.

He let John settle first, his body slowly melding against his, a new resting of his arms confusing Arthur for a moment. Raising a brow, he stared at John’s new position before huffing in amusement and reaching for the oil lamp.

John’s legs were still twisted between Arthur’s, his head resting on the alpha’s chest. He decided to purr, curling his arm around John and pulling him closer.

“You should go get him, just to make him shape up,” John muttered, his nose nudging against Arthur’s chest hair.

“What?” Arthur’s purr stopped suddenly, his question a snap as he glanced down at his bonded’s calm face. “You, of all people, are tellin’ me to go get him?”

“I don’t like the bastard, Arthur. But Dutch wants him around, and I know that what Hosea said really messed with you.” John’s hold tightened on the alpha, at least to soothe him.

Arthur couldn’t deny the growl of frustration rumble through him. He stopped just of effecting John. “We ain’t alike.”

“You don’t gotta tell me that, I already know,” John muttered, his mouth opening with a yawn.

“He ain’t gonna change, John,” Arthur whispered, reaching out to pull the blanket over them.

“Then you watch him like an eagle,” John suggested, sleep now heavily tainting his voice. “Or just leave him to rot.”

“He ain’t gonna rot,” Arthur exhaled heavily, “he’s gonna swing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more time, all together now, fuck Micah. 
> 
> Also, I have plans for the future of this story and I don't know who's feelings I want to hurt more: mine or John's?


	10. Is It Enough?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is focused on John, a small tidbit of him spiralling through his own feelings as an omega and what it means. *AKA: someone sit John down and tell him it's not the end of the world yet, and he's entitled to being his own omega in whatever terms those are.*
> 
> *BKA: this author is a literal trainwreck and they have to take the story down with them.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to call this chapter 'meta' but it seems pretty intrusive. All it is is John trying to come to terms with his own feelings (in a day, mind you) and I dunno, I liked it. 
> 
> Obviously, you can tell I liked it because I (like John in this chapter) like to put myself in the ever rotating spiral of 'well, if I don't do it, I'll miss out' and 'I've got so much time to do it'. 
> 
> I'm sure that this won't come off well-received and it might harp on what all goodies like domestic to be but as an actual feral, this feels right. 
> 
> I hope this note doesn't come off rambly. The end of this chapter, I really like and I hope it comes almost really on the nose soon. After this, I know that the chapters will be a lot more cohesive, half-John and half-Arthur, not focusing on one man for the rest of time. 
> 
> Hopefully we will turn around and get some more angst out before we get to fluff. There's a few scenes in game coming up and I really want to hone in on those sweet sweet SWEET Arthur John moments because ooooh, that shit is like fine wine.
> 
> Alright, I hope you like it. Sorry for the delay, and the rambly note. Please kay thanks. 
> 
> *also, I don't really feel like I need to add this in but yes, what happens towards the end is consensual. I understand the gray of what they are in but they also both said 'yes' and that is a healthy relationship.*

Arthur was barely listening to Dutch when he suggested taking Lenny out to take his mind off of things. Even when he suggested John could go with him, the alpha’s mind was still muddied from the night before.

And waking up, and sitting at breakfast, because John wanted him to go save Micah. For only Micah’s sake.

He didn’t even try to come up with well enough arguments for the bastard’s survival. It was just his suggestion, and it was his suggestion that took.

The leader called his name and Arthur snapped to attention with Dutch’s hand clamped on his shoulder. “Can you do this for me, son?”

Arthur nodded, his mind still sitting before John, listening to the omega make the argument for Micah to live if only to make Dutch happy. “‘Course. I’ll bring John along.”

“But don’t forget that you’re keeping your eye on Lenny.”

“I heard ya, Dutch.” He truly didn’t but it was better to agree.

John was sitting with the girls, watching them scrub blood from garments. He’d taken to cleaning his own things because it was easier than explaining how they got soiled.

He wanted to talk to the girls about what they thought about Micah, or maybe even what it meant to be with an alpha. The important things. However, the girls took up the silence asking him about spending so much time with Arthur.

“He’s a breeder, you know he is,” Karen said, wringing a shirt dry and pinning it behind her on the clothesline.

John refused to think about it. It wasn’t his time to think of things like that. He wasn’t even fully prime, he still had wild fluctuations of his heat.

Not to mention that Arthur wasn’t open to that thought either, they hadn’t even talked much since the alpha shut down in his feelings. John simply rolled over in submission, letting Arthur show his feeling through bed etiquette and left it alone afterwards.

He didn’t even bring up what it meant afterwards, they were bonded and Arthur stopped ignoring him.

“That don’t matter,” John said, glancing in Arthur’s direction and back.

The most glaring reasons were the easiest to ignore. John knew about Eliza, knew about Mary. And how could he compare? At least with Eliza, an omega, and Mary, a delta, they knew their bodies limits. John was rare and in between.

Male omegas existed but no two were alike. John never came across other omegas like him on the run. He noticed more male gammas on the run, and half of them were content being barefoot and pregnant.

John didn’t know if he wanted that, but his body flourished an ache to make it seem that way. Being without child was not the same as being empty. He shook his head.

“I think you’d be a great mother, John,” Mary-Beth said, resting her hand to his knee.

“I-I don’t want kids,” John uttered lowly. It was better to admit something he wasn’t sure about than get anyone’s hopes up. This was more between him and Arthur anyways.

His comment was enough to shock Tilly and Mary-Beth. Karen only sat back and nodded just the same, waiting for the other two to start their protests of an omega’s duties to their bonded.

“Does Arthur know?”

“You can’t be serious, haven’t you already been bred?”

John grimaced at both questions, looking between the two girls. He pushed to his feet and stared between the two.

“It ain’t your business, is it?”Because it was, in fact, between him and Arthur. It would probably never be brought up, and that was alright, because John was sure that he was final in his decision. No children. Children complicated things. He and Arthur weren’t even on the same page about it.

“You better watch yourself, Marston. Don’t wanna start naggin’ like a mother,” Karen harshly whispered as John shoved his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of going on anyways, it wasn’t their business.

He turned and walked off, towards the edge of camp as he searched the depths of his pockets for a cigarette. He found one, pulling it and resting it between his lips as a hand reached over his shoulder to light it. The tug in his chest confirmed it was Arthur and he huffed in relief.

“You let those ladies work you up?” The alpha asked, stepping next to John as he lit his own cigarette.

“No, they ain’t worth fussin’ over.” John stared out at the valley spread before him, over the pines and redwoods that shrouded over the river and lush land below.

“Then why you over here, makin’ a damn stink? You’re making my chest hurt, Marston.” Arthur took a drag of his smoke, whittling the ash halfway down before exhaling through pursed lips. John caught a good look of the alpha like that, the smoke billowing up and over his face with his clean shaven jaw jutting forward.

_Breeding material._

John sneered at his own thought and took a deep pull from his cigarette, crossing his arm over his waist. “They were...talkin’ bout kids.”

Arthur was slow in his reaction, a solemn ‘oh’ coming from his lips as he flicked the butt of his smoke to the ground, smashing it under his boot. John didn’t bother looking at the alpha, feeling the tug in his chest worm low in defeat, probably reminiscent of Eliza.

He only kept smoking, leaning against the tree beside him and staring blankly ahead. That reaction alone made John’s body shiver. _Your alpha is upset, comfort him._

He fought off the incessant instinct in the back of his mind, knowing there could never be something to fill the hole in Arthur’s heart for what happened. John was unfortunately not the one, he wouldn’t be. Not to carry children, even if he wanted to.

He didn’t know if he could. It was better to let the question pierce the silent air than tell his bonded it would never happen, John wouldn’t know until something else did. John didn’t waste another moment in Arthur’s wallowing silence, taking his hand and pulling the alpha close.

“You don’t gotta worry about that for a long time, okay?” John wasn’t sure what else to say. Maybe in a few years, the bond could be a little looser and Arthur could sow his instinctual need to parent.

That thought made John’s stomach churn. _Definitely not._ It would never happen, not even if John was close to death.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” John added, tossing down his cigarette and stamping it out before cupping Arthur’s cheek.

He stared into the cerulean before him, followed their darting glances back and forth, searching for something else. Arthur only exhaled deeply through his nose, slowly shutting his eyes before leaning in for a kiss.

John tilted his chin up, letting the alpha plant one on him before he pulled away.

“You don’t want my pups, Marston?” Arthur joked, a bit stabbing in John’s gut.

The tug swirled as Arthur chuckled, lightening from the serious drudge it’d just suffered. John wasn’t sure how to respond, if at all. He offered a light smirk, a barely entertained huff to follow.

“If it’d stop that kicked puppy look on your face, I’d give you a dozen.” He responded, his joke lacking all mirth and lightheartedness. _I want this to stop, this talk. I’m gonna feel worse by the end of it._ “What’d Dutch say?”

Arthur was still grinning, almost eagerly before he dialed it back. “Oh, uh, would you like to accompany me and Lenny to the saloon later? Dutch said it might cheer the boy up.”

John smiled, only at Arthur taking himself back from his primal excitement. “As much as I’d love to see you two act like plum fools, I’ll have to pass. You should go have some fun that ain’t me.”

Arthur pulled John close at that. “If you ain’t just a wet blanket.” The alpha pecked the meet of John’s jaw and the lobe of his ear. “Stay up for me, tonight.”

John gulped lowly, his stomach flooring as the insides of his thighs burned. _Yes, breed me. No, don’t think that. I don’t know._

He tilted his head slightly, revealing his neck to Arthur. The alpha nudged his nose along the straining muscle before kissing the patch of oil at the meet of John’s collar. John tangled his fingers against Arthur’s shirt, wanting to pull him close and lick the sweat from his neck.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” John answered instead, forcing himself away from Arthur, leaving the alpha confused and alone.

John put his mind off of what the girls said, the look on Arthur’s face as he went about his chores. He wasn’t wrong in saying that if it kept the alpha from being so torn, he’d be willing to have children.

But there had to be more in the end. John didn’t want to be barefoot and pregnant, chasing after litters of pups because it was in his title. Limits like that weren’t something he looked forward to. It was already bad enough to be fragile during a week.

Let alone nine months, and on the run too? He’d never let it happen. John had to stop, he was getting too ahead of himself. Still, he didn’t know if it was possible.

Biting the bullet later on that day, John dropped the hay bale from his hold and bee-lined to Hosea’s tent, reading a worn-in book.

“Hosea, I had a question for ya,” John started, glancing over his shoulders quickly before stepping closer. The fatherly beta was always a person of discretion, but it was the others he didn’t want to listen in.

“What’s wrong, John?” Hosea closed his book, sitting forward to set it down before turning to the young omega.

“I was wonderin’, if in all you’ve seen, have you...ever seen a male omega pregnant?” John’s voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned in.

Hosea narrowed his eyes at the young man, giving his face a scrutinized scan. “Is there something you want to tell me, son?”

John shook his head quickly, “N-no, I’m just...curious I guess.”

Hosea sat back, letting his face return to placidity. He crossed his arms. “This is between you and Arthur, isn’t it?”

John folded his hand to his face then looked around again. “Hosea, please. There ain’t nothing wrong, I just want to know.” He snapped quickly, his plea coming out with a low bite.

“John,” Hosea began, tightening his arms around him, “in all my years, in all of Bessie’s years, we’ve seen a lot of pregnant omegas, male or female didn’t matter.”

That didn’t ease John’s nerves. “Were there a lot of males?”It was a dangerous question, either way Hosea answered wouldn’t make him feel better. He didn’t know what he preferred to hear.

Hosea raised his brows, giving another squint over John’s shoulder before glaring back at the young man. “Something on your mind?”

John swayed slightly, feeling put off by Hosea’s remark. “I dunno.” He truly didn’t. He couldn’t see through to Arthur, that alpha was so thick sometimes.

The man barely got around to him, got around to forgiving himself for John getting lost though it wasn’t his fault. It was frustrating, he was tiptoeing around feeling and only responding in action.

John’s hand kneaded at his cheek, then up to his forehead. He couldn’t go to anyone else, he wasn’t even supposed to be thinking this way.

“No,” John finally said, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything, alright?”

He backed away from the beta, excusing himself back to his tent. It wasn’t supposed to be on his mind. John just got Arthur to come around to him again, to kiss him more than once and let him follow around like they had before Blackwater.

It was getting to be frustrating, John turned his hands towards his stomach, clenching his nails into his shirt.

_No, no children._

_You want only Arthur._

_Your alpha wants pups, give him them._

John growled at himself, sneering down at his body before removing his hands. From outside, Arthur and Lenny announced that they were off, escorting the dusk along with them.

He steered clear of the girls at dinner, pushing the portions in his stew about in his bowl. Even if it was trying to get away from his mind, all that was planted firmly now was the thought of being heavy in the hips with Arthur’s child.

 _No!_ John stood with a grunt, tossing down his stew before retreating to his tent again. He paced himself ragged until his knees wobbled through.

Was his heat coming back again? He couldn’t get the process from him. Damn those girls for even bringing it up, wasting his damn day with thinking about it.

He couldn’t even remember what he planned to do that morning, surely ready to talk to Arthur about what he considered with Micah. Of course he hated the bastard, but Dutch would have been pissed if his new golden boy swung.

There was no reasoning with their leader when his vision was skewed. That wasn’t the point now. Josh found himself falling on his knees, a deep growl firmly in his chest.

If it was heat, it was coming sooner than expected. Even after his last, John felt his system would be dampened by alpha in him. Something, anything except thinking that all he was good for was breeding.

John combed his fingers through his hair, forced a deep, steady breath in and out. It was going to pass. The tug in his chest reminded him of Arthur out, having his mind off of everything in his damned biology while John sat idly thinking of what he’d gotten into.

 _Shit._ John wished it was never mentioned. Wished that the girls hadn’t mentioned anything, wished Arthur never looked at him that way. _Shit!_

Sleep would get his mind off if it, it had to. John’s mind started sprinting a mile a minute like a deer outrunning a cougar, thinking of how short time got to be if he thought about it.

 _No._ There was no clock ticking inside him. He was young, he had years to think about this. It wasn’t meant to be crammed into one night. This was an argument to have with himself for a year at least.

But even now it was exhausting. He could barely see an end in sight. And there he went limiting himself again to only bearing pups. No, he wanted more, right?

He saw an aspiration in his future, right? Instead of going on the run for the rest of his life. How did Arthur feel about it, he couldn’t think that kids and outlaw’s mixed?

John stopped worrying himself with a sip of whisky from the O’Driscoll’s cabin. He took a deep swallow, tilting the bottle back until the suction of it bit at his bottom lip.

 _Fine. No more thinking tonight._ There was always a talk to be had with Arthur, and now they seemed to keep stacking. The three words didn’t go well enough, John couldn’t push the man hard on that.

Arthur, unfortunately, like himself, had a case of blaming himself for things he couldn’t control.

Now pups, they weren’t even comfortable enough to share a tent. Arthur was still wary about his is own cot space, sitting by and idling around. John was more than happy to let the alpha in, why didn’t he want to share the nest?

Nests. John groaned, setting the empty bottle down and looking around his mess of a tent. It was all occupied by him, maybe he wasn’t as inviting as he thought he was for Arthur.

The worrying was cut short by sleep, finally leaving John’s swirling brain to rest. That was until he woke up to the heavily tainted breath over his shoulder.

“Honey, I’m home,” Arthur whispered into John’s ear, dripping through him and causing a shiver in his hips.

“Hey,” John muttered, reaching over to pat Arthur’s cheek. “You smell like booze.”

“I know,” Arthur said, pressing his lips to John’s cheek in a light kiss.

John groaned, rolling over to face the inebriated alpha. “How was the bar, where’s Lenny?”

Arthur chuckled in John’s face, his eyes lolling closed as his breath crawled into John’s nose. “He’s fine, just sleeping outside. I missed ya.”

“I’m sure you did. Can’t get one thing off your mind, or your dick.” John grumbled, slipping back into sleep.

“Love me, John,” Arthur muttered, nuzzling his face in John’s neck, his teeth starting to milk at his scent gland.

John only let him in, snaking his arms over the man’s shoulders and holding him close. Arthur kept on, a lazy nibbling at John’s neck while his heavy breath rolled down the omega’s shoulder.

John slowly pressed himself closer, his legs starting to tangle between Arthur’s. “A-Arthur, I want to.”

“Me too,” the alpha whispered against John’s skin. His slow, heavy hands went for John’s buttons, pulling from his neck to kiss him.

Arthur was gentle, tugging the man’s shirt apart before going for his pants. John eased his hand under Arthur’s suspender, rolling it and his shirt from the man’s broad shoulder.

The kiss turned heavy and hungry, with Arthur rolling onto John as they finished undressing. John curled his fingers in the nape of Arthur’s hair, pulling for the man’s kiss with a nibble at his bottom lip.

Instead of rushing to an end, Arthur was paced. His hands slowly roamed along John’s naked form, feeling at the scars along the man’s thigh before slipping his arm around it.

John rested his forehead to Arthur’s, nodding that he could go ahead, already feeling the alpha’s length between his thighs. He found the older outlaw’s mouth again, stifling a moan as Arthur eased in.

A slow drag, already building the heat in his stomach. Arthur grunted, sliding deeper until he bottomed out. John’s arm circled around Arthur’s waist, holding the man there with short thrusts that made John’s tired eyes rolled back.

Arthur kept a slow, buried deep pace as John’s hand grabbed at the man’s cheek, pulling a pained grunt from him. Arthur bowed his head to John’s shoulder, huffing against the man’s sticky skin.

John tried his best to stay quiet, panting against Arthur’s shoulder the same. He turned to Arthur’s ear, whispering his name at the height of a withheld moan.

Arthur brought his head up, his lips tracing over John’s, his hair now stuck to his forehead from sweat. “I love you, John.”

John clenched harder at Arthur’s cheek and the nape of his hair, moaning lowly into the man’s mouth. “I love you too.”

At that, the tug in John’s chest went dead still, no wrapping or twirling in emotion. He tried to pull Arthur impossibly closer, their chests entirely flush and almost one.

John threw his head back as the warmth in his body cracked harshly along his back, sending through him a euphoric rush as his eyes shut, only seeing Arthur there.

Arthur came just the same with John milking him until there was nothing left. The alpha only collapsed against John’s chest, curling his head just beneath John’s chin.

John unclenched his hand, only to trace along the alpha’s back. His mind was now unreasonably quiet, no longer raging for a want of children or the next argument for him to start.

Glancing down, John felt Arthur’s purr rumble through him, his body heavier from the alcohol and now sleep. John attempted to ease the man off, only to feel the returning weight of sleep in his body.

He was slowly lulled by Arthur’s heavy purr, slowly rolling into a low snore. His eyelids fought off their weight until he couldn’t anymore, giving Arthur’s soft chestnut hair a long pet before it rested on the back of the man’s head.

_John bundled himself with his bedroll, tucking his collar up and burying his face down. He managed to keep him and Old Boy protected from the whipping winds, the midnight howls into the next morning._

_He wished he talked to Arthur more about things before getting stuck out here. It wasn’t the end, he knew it wasn’t, but it felt like his days were spent staring out at white hills, blinding winds and dark nights._

_John planned on leaving the next morning, but he couldn’t find sleep as if he chased it. It was hard, only replaying Arthur’s dance in his head, remembering the heavy warmth of the alpha to keep his mind off of the biting cold seeping into his hands._

_He’d give whatever Arthur wanted just then. If he asked, John would do everything in his power to ease the pain in Arthur, if there was any. Of course there was, it was Arthur._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, what is whisky dick?


	11. Blessed are the Goddamn Meek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, after putting things off long enough, decides to rescue Micah. And he brings John along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if this chapter is better than the others. 
> 
> No, I'm serious. I feel like my other chapters have been slow garb but this is better. 
> 
> Hope you like it.

The tent was a comforting cool as John slowly opened his eyes. Arthur’s hot breath rolled across his collar, still deeply lulled and heavy against him.

John smiled, craning his neck down to rest his lips on top of Arthur’s head. That was until the alpha snorted awake, jolting the moment to an abrupt stop.

He muttered against John’s skin then turned his head and nuzzled into his shoulder. John shook his head, combing his fingers through the alpha’s soft hair, letting Arthur return to sleep.

The alcohol wafted from the man’s skin, tainting the air but not as sharp as their meeting. A raw scent, combined with the whisky-tobacco taint that was Arthur’s signature.

John slowly sat up, barely moving his alpha, only to feel the sturdy plug between his legs. _A knot._

“You knotted me, you bastard?” John whispered against Arthur’s sweaty temple. He poked at the alpha’s broad shoulder, getting another tired grunt in response.

John raised his leg, attempting to reach the alpha’s dick to deflate him. With a grunt, he rested back, grinning down against the man’s damp forehead. “If you don’t wake up, I’ll make sure you never get this again. I will make your next rut a living hell.”

“That a threat, Marston?” Arthur grumbled against the omega’s skin, his nose tracing back and forth on John’s shoulder.

“’Bout to be if you don’t get your heavy…ass…offa me.” John lazily pushed his knee up to jab into Arthur’s side, only hissing in minute pleasure of the knot still planted firmly in him.

Arthur chuckled, raising his head to nibble at John’s ear. “Just say ya like me.”

“I’m ‘bout to hate you,” John snarled lowly, reaching down to grip Arthur’s knot and deflate him.

The alpha grunted then keened in a hiss, his hands gripping at John’s hips. “I ain’t done nothin’.”

“You’ve kept a knot in me all night,” John said against Arthur’s ear, attempting to pull the alpha out only for him to stay firmly planted. The omega hissed again, his hand pulling away from Arthur and going for his stomach.

“You started it,” Arthur pulled himself up, staring down at John.

John withheld a groan, their meet now starting to get sore. “Just help me.”

Arthur huffed, taking grip of his dick and slowly tugging himself free of John with a soft suction-like pop. John turned onto his side with an exhale, the remnant of pleasure scraping through his body after the fact.

Still, his stomach was sore, the pudge in his gut now soft feeling. “Fuck me,” John whispered, slowly pushing himself to sit up.

“Already done that.” Arthur cradled John’s head and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Get dressed, let’s go get your rat-faced bastard.”

“He ain’t mine,” John said with a scrunch of his face as he grabbed the alpha’s shirt and forced it to Arthur’s chest.

John carefully mounted Old Boy, adjusting his slightly abused hips on the saddle as Arthur clicked his tongue at his shire. The ride was silent, a choice on Arthur’s part.

In his mind, he was busy trying to think of how to free Dutch’s new golden boy. John clicked to pull Old Boy up to the shire, trying to see what emotion was worn on Arthur now.

The alpha’s face as placid, staring ahead blankly while he imagined being just a little too late to spring Micah from his jail cell.

“Arthur,” John spoke up, clearing his throat. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Arthur drew out, though it was a lie beyond his teeth.

In Strawberry, the horses were drawn to a halt just outside of the sheriff’s office. Arthur dismounted before John followed suit, taking a moment to stretch.

“You go ‘round the side, I’ll head in.” Arthur ordered, starting up the steps.

John did as he was told, shuffling down the path and around the low side of the building.

“Psst, Marston,” Micah’s voice slipped out from the barred window. The alpha reached for John’s arm, only earning a punch in the face. “Fuck!”

“Don’t touch me,” John said in return, staring at the blond man, already beaten to hell, holding his corkscrewed nose.

“They sent you to bust me out of here?” Micah asked, grumbling to himself as he tried to pinch the blood off in his nostrils.

“Well it weren’t my choice.” John’s stare turned darker at the caged alpha, almost amused by how fucked up he actually looked. “Make any good friends in there?”

Micah ignored the omega’s question, only returning to the bars to press his face between them. “A bitch omega as you’ve always been. Where’s your fucking breeder?”

Arthur doubled down the path after his unhelpful chat with the sheriff, catching up to John. He caught the young outlaw ready to punch through the bars at Micah, holding onto his elbow before letting it go.

“Hello, old friend. Had a good time, did you?” Arthur glanced to Micah, taking a stance to the side of the window.

John stood by, crossing his arms and sitting against an abandoned barrel in the alley.

“Arthur! Y-you gonna get me out of here?” Micah loosened his grip on the steel bars, pulling his face away from them as he stared over to the alpha.

Arthur clicked his tongue, folding his hands before him before glancing in John’s direction. “We ain’t decided yet.”

“Real funny.” Micah’s tone was desparate as he spared a look to John then back.

“Oh, I ain’t joking, cowpoke,” Arthur said, pushing off of the stone wall and leaning towards the steel bars. “I heard so much bluster out of your mouth these last six months and now…we got an opportunity to watch you be silenced.”

Arthur held onto the top steel bar, watching the desperate prattle of the jailed alpha. A black eye and now blood pooling in his goatee, most likely from John, was getting to be a delightful sight.

John grinned at Arthur, his hand rested on his gun holster as he listened to Micah plea for them to do something.

“Why?” Arthur’s husky voice slipped from his lips with intimidation in his tone, his cerulean eyes darting across Micah’s busted face for a reason to help. He found none.

“I-I always looked up to you, Arthur.” Micah tried.

Arthur huffed, turning away from Micah. “Well that’s your first mistake.”

Micah’s face scrunched in scorn before blowing out a disgusted scoff. John folded his lips together, catching the grimace on Arthur’s lips before he continued.

“There’s one little problem. There’s only two of us and there’s a whole town full of people wanting to see you swing.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it myself,” John added, only to be hushed by a quick glance from Arthur.

“You gotta do something, Arthur,” Micah started again, only to be quieted by the swift move of the free alpha leaning in.

Both of Arthur’s hands gripped over Micah’s, pressing the man’s hands harder against the raw steel bars edge. “I ain’t gotta do a thing for you, Micah. And I damn sure ain’t doing this for Dutch.”

Micah opened his mouth to speak but Arthur bared his teeth open in a heavy growl, silencing him. His teeth started to sharpen as a string of saliva strummed between his canines.

The blond slowly shut his mouth again.

“Now, I’m only doing this ‘cause John said I should.”

Arthur watched Micah’s eyes drift over his shoulder to look at John. He corrected the jailed alpha’s wandering eyes with a bark. “And we got some conditions.”

“We do?” John asked with a raise of his brow, pushing off of the barrel.

Arthur turned over his shoulder, “’Course. Why else would I bring you along?”

John stepped towards the two, weighing the alpha’s words carefully before speaking. “You ain’t allowed near the other omegas.”

Arthur nodded to that which led John to continue.

“And you spend your ruts in Strawberry.”

Micah’s face further turned in a grimace as John mulled over what else to bring up.

“You ain’t puttin’ nothing in Dutch’s ear, neither. All your schemes end with is death.” John took to point at the blond, still held hostage by Arthur’s menacing grip. “And if you don’t abide by them rules then we’ll put the geld on you.”

“Whoa, and I’m sure Bill won’t have no problem with that,” Arthur roared with a hearty chuckle to follow. “So whatd’ya say, cowpoke? That worth your freedom?”

The alpha squeezed at Micah’s swollen fingers again, earning a pained grit of the blond’s teeth before he answered. “Yes. I accept your conditions.”

“Good.” Arthur quickly released Micah’s hands with a cheery smile. He turned to John, who was also sporting a chipper grin. “Now, let’s find a way to free the bastard.”

“What about that steam donkey?” John nodded over the alpha’s shoulder before going to grab the hook.

“Atta boy, Marston.” Arthur crossed behind the omega, going to the handle to crank the machine on.

John rested the hook on the bars. “You might wanna watch them fingers.” Then whistled for Arthur to start it up.

The omega took a large step back as Arthur pulled the lever forward, making it look easy. The steel wire went taut quickly, then exploded the window clear from the cobblestone wall.

Micah coughed dramatically, climbing free to the outside. The sky started to darken as a few spare droplets turned to a steady drizzle.

“Let’s get outta here, come on.” Arthur handed over his spare pistol to Micah as John whistled for the horses.

The pair started for Old Boy and the Shire, only to be stopped by the gunshot behind them. John and Arthur looked back, with Arthur asking what the hell he was doing.

“He was an O’Driscoll,” Micah stated too quickly.

“Dammit,” John said, ducking down behind a barrel with Arthur to follow.

Micah covered at the corner of the building, the sheriff and two of his deputies rushing out of the office. John unholstered his gun, making sure it was loaded as Arthur brandished his rifle.

The shootout ensued, bringing the entire town to gun at the three outlaws trying to escape. John and Arthur tried to cut through the pursuers while Micah rushed for each cover, gunning down stragglers on either side.

Micah veered right through the town, leaving John and Arthur to their own devices.

“Don’t go that way, let’s get outta here!” Arthur called after the wild blond.

“I got some unfinished business. Trust me, Morgan!” Micah took off over the bridge, shooting at officers on their horses.

“Arthur!” John called as the alpha was torn between the two, still warding off new men with blazing gunfire.

Arthur looked back to John then forward at Micah before swearing under his breath. “Just…meet us at the entrance with the horses!”

Then left John to fend off the rest of the numbers.

“You have finally lost your damn mind,” Arthur said, catching up to Micah and watching his back.

John didn’t take it to heart, whistling once again for his horse only for him to bring the shire along too. He finished off a few more officers before taking guard at the front of the town, hearing the gunshots ring through the mountains.

“I’ll kill this whole town if I have to!” Micah started taking off again, shooting from the hip, wildly chasing down the fleeing.

“We should be long gone by now,” Arthur said, following Micah’s lead, trying not to drag his feet for the fact that he could’ve left the alpha for dead.

“They got something of mine I ain’t leaving without.”

Arthur grumbled lowly, still keeping up Micah’s back, shooting off a few more men in this town of hundreds.

“Let’s go.” Micah called over his shoulder, slithering behind cover as he reloaded.

“Where we going?” Arthur asked, reloading his rifle as well.

“Making a house call.” Micah ran down the hill to the house at the end of it.

“We really should get outta here,” Arthur added, his minute patience now spread incredibly thin.

“Calm yourself, Morgan. Like I said, I need to see someone.” Micah didn’t slow down as he burst through the front door, close to tearing it from its hinges.

Arthur stood watch as Micah called for a man named ‘Skinny’ before shooting him. He tossed the man from his own home, onto the porch, then slammed the door behind him with an excuse to Arthur.

The alpha waited, the town suddenly gone silent as Micah took to clean up his own mess. Arthur ignored the cries behind him as another gunshot rang out, with Micah leaving the house with a smug grin.

“They had something of mine, my guns.” Micah brandished his double-weld pistols before starting up again in the direction of the entrance.

 _Thank god._ Arthur didn’t want to admit it to himself, but the gun-slinging was already tiring. He kept after Micah, following his trail of gunshots through the rest of the town before finally seeing the end in sight.

Shire and Old Boy were rearing up, neighing as John tried to manage both reigns.

“Come on, now!” John called out, seeing Arthur take cover across from Micah.

Micah shot out, taking down a few men from the postal office as Arthur caught a few officers crossing from the general store.

As the numbers dwindled, Arthur caught a stray bullet in his side. With a lowly grunt, he pulled through the stinging pain to finish off the rest of the men before backing out of the town with Micah in tow.

The blond alpha mounted his horse and Arthur quickly followed with John tossing the reins at him. The three skirted out of town, pursued by a few stragglers on horses.

“Keep riding, boys!” Micah yelled, leading the charge out of town.

Up and down the mountain, staving off the riders chasing after them, the three finally slowed to collectively catch their breath.

“That was some good shooting, boys. I gotta hand it to you.” Micah threw over his shoulder as his horse began a trot.

“What the hell was that back there?” John spoke up, his voice reaching its peak perturbed tone.

“Yeah, making a house call in the middle of all that?” Arthur added, egging the blond for an answer.

“Is that what that was? All that roundabouting for a social visit?” John asked, sneering at the back of the crazed alpha’s head.

“Ain’t much I care about more than those guns.” Micah added in, hoping to sate the barrage from the bonded pair.

John scoffed outrageously, rolling his eyes.

“That much is clear. Who was that feller?” Arthur glanced over to his peeved omega, giving him an entertained smirk.

“Skinny? Yeah, we ran together for a while. Did a bank job down south, didn’t end well.”

“That’s surprising,” John rattled off his sarcasm with a sniff to follow.

“I saw how it goddamn ended,” Arthur said, reaching for the scathe on his side. He buried another grunt as he pressed at the wound further, pulling back to see the stain of red in his palm.

“He was gonna let me hang,” Micah said, still paving the way back to camp.

“I’m starting to wish we had,” John started.

“And you owe Lenny, too. If he hadn’t found us in time…” Arthur kept on.

“Yes, you will all be thanked profusely, I promise.”

“You’re just lucky that Dutch has your back, for some unknown reason.”

The conversation quickly died down until Micah stopped his horse. “I think we finally lost ‘em.”

“I hope so.” Arthur pulled his shire to a halt next to Micah.

John rounded the other side of the jail-sprung alpha as Micah produced a holster from his saddle bag. “My way of saying thank you.”

Arthur scoffed at the gift, placing it on his off-hip before starting up again. “And thank you. There we were having a dull day only for you to liven it up by letting me help you shoot up half a town.”

“You’re a funny feller, Arthur. Real funny.” Micah tugged his horse’s reins again, turning down the road. “Why you act all sour all the time? The two of ya?” He looked between the pair with John to snarl and produce a menial growl.

“Yeah, well, you ain’t funny at all, so why you gotta act like the court jester?” Arthur’s tone was at its peak as well, still holding his flesh wound.

“I’m sorry, but we’re family now, boys,” Micah turned to John, who was avoiding all eye contact with him. “You, me, Marston…kin of Dutch. Makes us brothers, even if there is stirring in the family.” He added pointedly, his tone making John’s stomach churn.

“And sometimes brothers make mistakes,” Micah continued, glaring back at Arthur. “Now, I’m heading back to my little camp round back of Strawberry, come see me, maybe I can make things up to you?”

“There ain’t nothing to make up,” Arthur said, nodding over to John. “You apologize to John now.”

The blond alpha turned over his shoulder to the omega, gave him a once over as he sniffed harshly. “I’m sorry, Marston. And don’t worry, I ain’t forgot the conditions.”

“You’re not going back to Dutch?” John asked, ignoring the disgusting shake that traveled his spine after Micah’s apology.

“Oh no, I’ve been a bad boy.” Micah forced a pout. “I ain’t seeing Dutch ‘til I can right myself.”

Arthur and John shared another glance behind Micah’s back.

“Bye now,” Micah finally said, clicking his tongue as he waved. His horse started back in the direction of Strawberry, leaving Arthur and John to themselves.

“Fucking idiot,” John said after Micah was beyond earshot. He dismounted from Old Boy as Arthur did Shire, groaning at the pain in his side. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine, John.” Arthur breathed in, leaning against his horse as he shed his suede jacket.

The omega snarled, a rush of protective nature flooding through him. The tug in his chest was embedding like a twisting knife until he forced Arthur’s shirt untucked.

He pulled the stained blue-striped shirt up to Arthur’s neck, moving the alpha’s suspender out of the way. John forced Arthur to lean forward, eyeing the irritated skin and large patch of dried blood. A clean shot through.

“It’s fine, John, I promise.” Arthur groaned, holding his shirt up as the omega reached out to touch his waist.

John glared up at Arthur, “Shuddup. Stay here.”

He went back to his saddlebag, pulling out a rag and some alcohol. John was back in front of Arthur in an instant, wiping the dried blood from the man’s skin before dabbing the rag with alcohol.

“This shit’s gonna sting,” John said before forcing the rag against the entrance wound. Arthur bared his teeth with another grunt, holding back a snarl as his jaw twitched with his teeth bared. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you I was fine, John, you don’t like to listen.” Arthur leaned his head against the omega’s shoulder.

“You can’t be lying to me like that,” John muttered, “Don’t you know that you could get sick like this?”

Arthur hummed, inhaling the sweetness of John’s skin. “You’re such a smotherer.”

“Let’s get you back to camp. Miss Grimshaw might be able to help.” John ignored Arthur’s comment with a roll of his eyes. Of course it wasn’t bad enough to keep Arthur down, but the thought sank deep into John. “And if you say you’re fine one more time, I’ll give you hell.”

“Promise?” Arthur grinned, standing upright as he held at the rag now stuck against his wound.


	12. And Time Repeats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur have a simple heart-to-heart in the direct aftermath of saving Micah. John starts the cycle all over again and Arthur is left in the dark on what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm finally getting the hang of Alpha Morgan and Omega Marston. I dunno why I tried to make them so hard and edgy when they are literally the fluff boys. Not saying that this is all smooth sailing coming, oh no sir. I hope that you are mentally preparing yourselves because I am about to make your feelings hurt. But for now, just enjoy a John that steals his mate's clothes. 
> 
> Message received: Micah (definitely) shouldn't have been saved in the last chapter.  
> I know, I get it. I hate him too.  
> But...who knows? Maybe the geld is enough to shock some sense into him.

Arthur was patched up by Miss Grimshaw, told to stay off his feet for the rest of the day. He waved off the elder alpha’s order, pushing to his feet and leaving his tent.

John sat by, only staring across the plains again, no cigarette in hand. He was worried about Arthur though he knew he shouldn’t have been. It was better to distance himself than get in Miss Grimshaw’s way.

Arthur walked over with a low whistle to John. “You alright?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” John sat up against the tree trunk, ready to stand but Arthur lowered himself to the ground.

The alpha slowly rested his head in John’s lap, staring up at the sky as he folded his arms over his stomach. “I told you before and I’ll say it again, I’m fine.”

John exhaled, resting his arm across Arthur’s chest. This was familiar. He could remember them doing this before Blackwater. He scratched his fingers against the pocket of Arthur’s shirt, drawing a purr from the alpha’s chest.

“You say that with a bullet wound in your side,” John said, tilting his head back to stare through the leaves of the tree.

“You’re one to talk, wolf man.” Arthur smiled, adjusting his hat over his face to get some rest.

“You wanna talk about the wolves, hmm?” John asked, knowing that it would shut Arthur down.

The alpha sneered from behind his hat, his arm reaching up to wrap around John’s waist. “You know I love them scars.”

John smiled down at the man, feeling his fingers circle on his side. He didn’t say anything else with a huff, only to remember what else was on his mind.

“You think Micah’ll keep his promise?” John asked, closing his eyes as his fingers roamed up to Arthur’s neck, thick and veined.

“If he doesn’t, he’s a fool,” Arthur muttered behind his hat, his body slowly weighing further on John’s legs.

John nodded to himself, then looked down to Arthur again. “Yesterday…”

“John.” Arthur stopped circling his fingers. He tipped his hat back to look at his bonded. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want you to share the tent with me,” John blurted quickly, looking down to see the surprise on Arthur’s face.

“Really?”

John’s shoulders went up with a huff through his nose. “You practically live in it with me, dummy. We’re bonded. Did you want t’just go back to being apart?”

The hurt in John’s tone was adamant, jerking at the pull in Arthur’s chest. _Of course not_. He couldn’t stand the thought of being away from John now. He wondered why he ever wedged himself away in the first place.

As John’s dark eyes searched his face, Arthur remembered by the increasing disappointment furrowing John’s brows. That, that was what made him pull away. He didn’t want to add to that disappointment. He’d done it with Mary, though she couldn’t give him a break.

He’d done it with Eliza. Arthur never wanted John to end up resenting him, or hurt. He wanted to say it again, he knew he forced it out the night before but now…now he wanted to use it like the bandage to mend their past. He wanted to use it as glue to solidify their future.

“N-no, never again.” Arthur slowly sat up, planting his arm over John’s lap. “I wanna be with you, John.”

John bit back a smile as Arthur leaned in. “So you’re moving your tent?”

“I will share a tent with you, Marston.” Arthur hid a roll of his eyes, leaning in for a light kiss on John’s lips.

This was starting to solidify, Arthur felt his fingers turn to roots, planting firmly on John’s thigh. He wanted to be flush with him so their collective pull tangled and whipped contentedly between them.

But it still felt only halfway. Arthur knew that a chest bond was rare, more permanent, but now he wanted the display. One day soon, he’d ask for John to mark him, sink his small teeth against the meet of his neck and shoulder for the sign of possession, security.

John hummed a low laugh as Arthur’s hand roamed along his thigh. “Quit it. You keep acting that way, you’ll break me before you have me.”

Arthur scrunched his nose, pulling back with a smirk. “I do have you, John. And I promise I ‘on’t break ya.” He ducked his head to John’s neck, pulling his collar away to milk at the scent gland.

His tongue dragged over the oil built there, tasting the twisted sweet of John.

“Stop, you. Now you’re just tryin’ me.” John’s hands went for Arthur’s waist, neither pushing or pulling him. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep them from rolling, forcing his knees together.

Arthur pulled away finally, resting his forehead to John’s. “I’m makin’ up for lost time.”

Two weeks later, John woke up to a warm empty spot on his bedroll. Though Arthur was gone, his scent was prominent in the blanket.

John rolled over, burying his face in the place Arthur laid his head. Feeling it swirl through his nostrils, it slipped down his throat and filled up his stomach. It wasn’t enough to inhale, enough to roll in and make their own.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and suddenly felt a sweat break out on his forehead. He shrugged off the blanket, curling it between his legs and twisting it in his hold. John was unable to get a fill of it, thoroughly sniffing at everything Arthur touched.

John forced himself to breathe fresh air for a moment, bringing a clear cut through his musky haze. With a blink, he groaned, remembering the last time he’d been so adamant for Arthur’s scent.

Sitting up, John searched around the tent, noting all of Arthur’s splayed things. His instincts went into overdrive as his shoulders relaxed. Like an animal he crawled across the floor, scooping up all of Arthur’s things before nuzzling his face in them.

Next, he was planted in the corner of his tent, readjusting his and Arthur’s bedrolls, placing each article of the alpha’s clothing in its unmarked specific position. John was adamant in the placement, taking Arthur’s old union shirt and stuffing it directly at the head of his bedroll.

He took the alpha’s spare handkerchief and tied it around his neck, a constant knowing of his bonded nearby. John took Arthur’s pants, lined the back wall of the tent and around the feet of the bedrolls, creating a low wall.

“John,” Arthur started, pulling back the flap of their tent and allowing the sun in.

The omega growled lowly over his shoulder, at his own alpha, before relaxing at the man.

“What’re you doin’?” The alpha ducked inside, tilting his head at John continuing in his act of rolling in Arthur’s laundry.

John ignored his mate, continuing to create a low ring around their bedrolls before stretching their blanket out in the middle.

“John,” Arthur drew the omega’s name out in a song, leaning into his sight.

John’s eyes were focused on the garments, still sniffing each one before placing it just right. When Arthur leaned into his sight, he smiled, his eyes still far on his task.

“Alright, you keep doing what yer doing.” Arthur left his bonded to his own devices, pressing a kiss to the brunet’s temple before leaving the tent.

John hummed in response, only to turn and sniff after Arthur.

“He’s nesting,” Hosea added as gab on their way to rob a stagecoach. “Readying his safe place for when his heat comes. Unlike the girls, John has you and that changes how he acts in the time leading up to it.”

“What does that mean, Hosea?” Arthur still looked to the elder beta for advice, an insight because even if he spent forever with John, he was sure he’d still be in the dark.

The older man chuckled, rearing his horse to slow down with Arthur. He looked over to the alpha, still seeing the bright young scrapper behind the scars and burly frame. “It means you better be careful, Arthur. If you thought John was bad last heat, now he’s got you to break it.”

The alpha’s eyes widened, turning his once entertained smirk to an offset frown.

“Oh, don’t be so distraught. It’s not like John could get through that steel resolve of yours.” Hosea chuckled as if all-knowing, as if he saw how quickly Arthur broke the last time. “And I don’t suggest delaying the inevitable by avoiding him, either. Better to just sweat it out together.”

Arthur turned to Hosea with a deadpan look, his eyes only reflecting the concern in his eyes. “Hosea, I don’t think I could last a week.”

“It probably won’t even last that long,” Hosea said with a smirk.

“What you mean?” Arthur cocked a brow but Hosea clicked his tongue, leading the charge forward and abruptly ending the conversation.

“Always being a dense alpha, son,” Hosea added, pulling through the town of Emerald Station, “will get you nowhere.”

After retrieving the stagecoach with Hosea for a hefty sum of money, Arthur took his time returning to camp. Only to give John enough nesting time before he came in and ruined it.

 _Nesting._ That was something Arthur almost completely forgot about. Omegas weren’t rare but his interactions with them were.

Him remembering correctly, the girls never nested, only huddled together to remain celibate. John kept to himself in the past, away from the girls except for Abigail. The two of them learned to stomach through it together, back to back in a tent while Abigail complained and John listened.

He didn’t want to ignore that he never saw Eliza nest, but it was true. Arthur didn’t stick around, he tried to keep himself away but they ended up hurt anyways.

Arthur shook his head, pulling off of the path to do some hunting, specifically for something to bring back to John’s tent. Their tent. He’d have to get used to that.

Dismounting from his shire with a pat, he’d soon have to give the good boy a name, Arthur retrieved his rifle and herbivore bait from the saddle.

“Go on, now, get,” Arthur shooed his shire away, crossing the path to the open field.

Laying down some bait, Arthur backed to the treeline. With a carefully determined load of his gun, he sunk low to the ground, allowing the tall grass to disguise him as he waited.

A single boar wandered across the plain, snorting at the bait laid down before perking its head up at Arthur’s whistle. Quickly, the alpha drew his gun up, aiming between the eyes of the boar and firing.

By dusk, Arthur had skinned three boars of their pelts, knowing that Pearson would need one more for allowance. With his shoulders tight and the back of his neck aching, the alpha pulled through.

Climbing onto his shire, Arthur continued through Lemoyne, hoping to find the last piece for his hunt. Gun resting on his leg, he aimed with one arm ahead at a boar crossing towards the marsh.

With a whistle, he caught its attention, only for it to retreat in the opposite direction.

“Goddammit, get back here!” Arthur yelled after the swine, kicking his spurs into his shire to give chase.

He was not going to go back empty handed, or half-assed, in any way. The meat would be donated, but the pelts were for John.

Arthur readied his rifle, steadying himself with a deep breath as he shot the boar between the shoulders. With a skid halt of his shire, he passed the fallen animal and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ll have it in a day,” Pearson said, taking the pelts and hanging them to dry on his rack.

“Thank ya, Pearson.” Arthur looked over his shoulder to the tent then back at the beta. “Has John come out today?”

“Can’t say I’ve seen him. But Miss Grimshaw told me to keep a portion hot for him.” The man turned away and back, producing an upcycled can filled with hearty stew. “I’m not sure if he’s hungry but you can try.”

Arthur nodded another thanks, taking the small gift from the cook before going to the tent. Pulling back the flap, the lantern was now hung overhead as John pushed and prodded garments to their desired places.

“I’m back,” Arthur said lowly, unsure of what to expect from his busy omega. “Pearson set aside some stew for ya.”

John snapped his head up, inhaling deeply at the scent of food and Arthur. Warmed by the sun, from a long day of work, mixed with his whisky musk and topped with an earthy grit from hunting.

This was Prime Arthur. This scent was what was missing from John’s nest all day, everything else was faintly tainted with cigarette smoke and the other pack members but what Arthur was emanating now was only him.

John scrambled to his feet quickly, stopping to sway from the dizzy spell. He held his hand out for the stew in Arthur’s hand but took the alpha’s wrist instead.

Without a word, John pressed his nose firmly against Arthur’s chest directly between his solid pectorals. He snaked his arms around the alpha, inhaling and allowing his eyes to cross. The omega’s hands grasped at Arthur’s backside, gently squeezing and pulling him impossibly close.

“Hey now.” Arthur chuckled wearily, his hand holding the food jutting awkwardly over John’s shoulder. “I ain’t been gone that long.”

John wasn’t listening, his instinctual mind wrapping cozily in the primal scent of this alpha, _his_ alpha. He kneaded at the flesh in his hands before Arthur hooked his index finger under John’s chin.

“John, focus. You ain’t ate all day,” he said, pulling the stew into John’s view. “Take a breath. Eat.”

John mustered a lazy growl in his throat, feeling so close to an unachievable high right as he was being pulled away. He disguised his sneer, raised up on his toes and rested his lips to Arthur’s cheek before letting go.

He snatched the stew from the alpha’s hands, staring into the murky red depth. The bobbing of mystery meat made John’s stomach churn, but for Arthur’s sake he’d muscle through it.

“I’ll eat this,” John said, poking at a green vegetable rearing its dirty head, “but I want yer clothes.”

Arthur raised his brows at the young outlaw, tugging the front of his shirt away from him to give it a timid sniff. His own nose turned up in disgust, turning to the side to cough. “You serious? I stink.”

John already spooned a mouthful. “Don’t matter, hand ‘em over.”

“John…” Arthur began, only for John’s eyes to narrow menacingly. The omega’s eyes flashed a dark depth and the alpha quickly forfeited. “Fine.”

“And I want you to bathe after.” John managed with another spoonful in his mouth.

Arthur shrugged off his hat and tossed it wayside to his clothes chest. “Now yer being ridiculous.”

John hummed in response, chewing the bits of stew before taking another bite. All while being thoroughly amused by his alpha slowly stripping, tossing down his beaten summer jacket before kicking off his shoes.

Disgustingly loud were his socks, the musk wafting into John’s nostrils and making the sour stew taste sweet for a moment. Still, the pair were silent as Arthur went for his suspenders next, rolling them from his shoulders before quickly undoing his buttons.

“You really need all my clothes?” Arthur asked, tossing his plain red-button up over to the nest.

John nodded eagerly. “Why, you want some of ‘em back?”

Arthur stopped at undoing his pants to stare at John. “You know what? Yes, ‘cause I don’t wanna be walking around here naked as a jaybird.”

John slurped back the drool that formed in his mouth at that statement, suddenly only focused on the alpha’s thick thighs and cheeks. “I won’t mind.”

“Of course, you won’t.” Arthur exhaled, resuming in his task only to please the sated omega.

John finished off his stew and Arthur pushed his pants down to his ankles, kicking them off and over to the nest. He stood, arms crossed as John stared at him, a sly smile emerging on his lips.

“What?” Arthur asked, only for John’s stare to be drift downward. “Oh, no.”

John chuckled outwardly, hiding the inquisitive sniff to follow. “Come on, Arthur. For me?”

Arthur ignored John’s plea, knowing he was going to obey anyways. Just as Hosea said, it was better than delay the inevitable.

The alpha went for his underwear, freeing himself to the omega before him. He kicked them away as John’s stare was no longer on him. Not his eyes anyways. At first, the ogling was strange, made Arthur want to cover up with his hand. But as John tilted his head, his breathing slowly picking up as he set discarded his empty can, Arthur felt impressive.

John cleared his throat, giving the air another inhale before forcing his eyes away from the alpha’s well-built frame. The image was seared to memory already by touch and feeling, it was close to being complete with the sight.

“I don’t know how we did it,” John muttered under his breath, turning away from the alpha to find new places for his freshly scented clothes.

“Can I get something to wear to the river and back?” Arthur interrupted the omega’s process of adjusting his nest.

John climbed over the small lip, tugging at the lower garments surrounding the conjoined bedrolls. He tossed a thermal shirt and pants at Arthur with a cheap grin. “And I want those back when yer done.”

Arthur scoffed, picking up the garments and forcing them on. “Fine. But I ain’t doing this all week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Hosea is the goodest father figure. We love a natural Hosea.


	13. In the Face of Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur deals with John's strange behavior as long as he can manage until it proves that something is different about the omega. Abigail offers her help to John for him to reluctantly accept. And not so surprising news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the last chapter: 
> 
> Arthur: "Fine. But I ain't doing this all week."
> 
> The narrator (Morgan Freeman's voice): "But that would be proven to be a lie. For you see, Arthur is a pushover when it comes to John. Though he can't utter the words soberly, he loves that man."

Arthur endured John’s nesting behavior for week. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be, but it was still unbearable. John was determined to pick Arthur’s own clothes, just to keep the alpha from tearing down his nest.

On the second day of his nesting, Pearson presented Arthur the boar rug. The alpha thanked the cook before unfurling it inside the tent for John.

John’s dark eyes lit up at the new garment, only to scrunch his nose at the scent. He asked Arthur to sleep on it for a night, but the alpha attempted to put his foot down.

It didn’t last, however, with John undressing and taunting Arthur until the man growled, producing slick. That ended with the alpha mounting John, rolling on the floor as the omega got what he asked for.

The fifth day of John’s nesting, Arthur woke up to the omega curling heavy against his chest, legs planted on either side of the alpha’s thigh.

John rubbed against Arthur, pulling small moans from his throat. With a breathy chuckle, Arthur only curled his arm around the omega’s waist, allowing John to nibble at his neck and scent gland.

“You’re actin’ so feisty,” Arthur whispered as John rode out a high on the outlaw’s leg.

John didn’t answer, it wasn’t necessary. He was getting higher and hotter off of Arthur with each passing day and now it coming closer.

Arthur was being patient, he couldn’t help but be because by the end of it, John would be back to his plateau, content that the heat could be put off for another month. He turned and pressed a kiss to John’s forehead. The omega keening and grabbing at his shirt as he came.

John was getting sore between the hips, knowing that it was all part of his body preparing to heat. His hands slowly roamed up Arthur’s chest, dragging his palm along the alpha’s firm body before stopping at his pectoral.

His breath slowly came back to normal, slowly shutting his eyes as he kneaded at the muscle of Arthur’s chest. John turned his face into the alpha’s shoulder, exhaling as his mind reeled back from the high.

Arthur said nothing, only holding the omega close and offering a comforting purr as John yawned against his skin.

John’s heat lasted two days, without much aid of Arthur to his inner alpha’s disdain. He woke up, felt a sweat on his forehead as his body broke into a chill.

But it was managed. Arthur could smell him, his scent heightened with the temperature of John’s skin scorching.

While it made Arthur sniff and follow after him, the haze was somewhat clear. The stench wasn’t as strong, just dampened.

John took it as a triumph, Arthur not so much. As the second day passed without John closing himself off as he overly produced slick, the alpha stopped and confronted the younger outlaw.

“You feeling alright?” Arthur asked, hands taking John’s waist, sniffing at the man’s hair then at his neck.

“I’m fine, Arthur. Why you worried?” John grinned, though it was a twisted thing.

Abigail was the same level of concerned. Arthur didn’t want to let it show, but he feared the worst. He wasn’t sure what the worst could be, but his mind suddenly went to loss.

“Marston, you okay?” Abigail asked, stopping her friend with a grab of his elbow.

John scoffed, looking over Abigail’s small frame to Arthur, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of him for three days, then back. “Did Arthur put you up to this?”

“No,” Abigail started, letting go of John’s elbow, “no. You just…you ain’t acting like yer ‘sposed to.”

John shook his head. “Maybe this is how it’s meant to be, Abigail. Maybe I’m finally coming into myself.”

Abigail returned John’s motion, her hands going to wring at a part in her skirt. “None of us are that different, John. The rest of the girls been getting it just the same.”

“I’m not one of the girls.” John bared his teeth defensively, lowering his voice as he looked back over to Arthur, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “I’m fine. It ain’t bad, I’m sure of it.”

Abigail’s face was distorted in concern, her brows furrowing as a weary smile grew on her lips. She leaned in, gave her omega friend a sniff. “Can’t you just humor me? We can go to the doctor together tomorrow.”

John pulled back, exhaling to the sky as he dropped his shoulders. “Will this get you off my back, woman?”

“Yes.” Abigail was quick to answer, straightening out her skirt with a confident huff.

“Tomorrow then.” John looked over to Arthur a third time, seeing that he had occupied himself with talking to Dutch. With a grimace, he snapped back to his friend who was staring at him, the concern growing on her face. “Abigail, I don’t need to go.”

“I know, just…for me. And Arthur, too. Do you see how he watches you? He’s scared.”

John frowned, forcing his hands to his hips as he looked down. “I already said I’d go, dammit. Don’t make me feel bad.”

Arthur woke up with John climbing over him, taking in the man’s scent as he slipped over the lip of the nest.

“Where you goin’?” Arthur asked, his hand reaching to pet through John’s long hair.

“I’m goin’ with Abigail into town,” John said, offering a light peck to Arthur’s cheek. “’Cause you both won’t get off my hide ‘bout my body.”

The tired alpha grumbled, his eyes slowly fluttering back close. He rested his head back down. “I’m sorry, John. I’m just worried.”

John pulled away from his mate, standing up and fastening his clothes right. “I can’t keep telling ya I’m alright, Arthur. I’ll just be back.”

Arthur sat up again, reaching for his hat and boots. “You want me to come along?”

John smiled, leaning down to press his scarred lips to the alpha’s forehead, tipping his hat back until it fell to the ground. “No, we’ll be alright. You get some rest.”

Arthur growled lazily, raising his knees to rest his arms on top of them. “Don’t be gone too long, or I’ll be comin’ after ya.” He slowly blinked, watching John fasten his belt and stamp into his boots.

“I won’t be gone long.” John waved his alpha, coaxing him back to sleep. “Go on back to bed.”

“You tell me when yer back,” Arthur said, easing back down to his bedroll, eyes lolling closed.

John ducked out of the tent and waited for Abigail by Old Boy. The omega woman took her time, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. She squinted to the sunrise with a smile to John.

“Come on, help me up.” Abigail waved her hand out for John to take, grabbing Old Boy’s rein and hoisting herself up before John could.

He furrowed his brows as Abigail reared the horse back, holding her hand out for John to take. _Let’s get this over with._ With a grunt, he planted himself behind Abigail, curling an arm around his friend’s waist.

“What do you think it is, since you know so much?” John asked, leaning over Abigail’s shoulder to catch her eye.

With a click of her tongue, Abigail sped Old Boy up and out of camp, through the hidden entrance and onto the main path. “You don’t wanna hear what I think.”

“That ain’t true.” John sat back, riding through the trot of his horse with a hand on the saddle.

Abigail scoffed, glancing over her shoulder to John. “You _won’t_ wanna hear what I think.”

John stared forward, his mind now boggling on what could be so concerning. The conditions were severe what he was thinking of, something that he never thought of before.

The ride was filled by Old Boy’s whinnies, his hooves clomping into town and stopping before the doctor’s office.

“You think it’s bad?” John asked, unmounting from Old Boy then helping Abigail do the same.

“Depends on how open you are to it.”

Her cryptic nature only made John’s head spin further. Now he was concerned if he caught Uncle’s fabled lumbago at such a young age. Twenty-six was too young to contract TB.

Inside, John’s nerves were not eased. In fact, they were heightened by waiting for the doctor to call him into the room. Abigail steadied his jerking knee with her hand.

“Take a deep breath, I promise it ain’t that bad.”

“That’s what you say now, Abigail.” John sat up straighter, his hands clasped in his lap as his knee returned to bouncing.

“John Marston, didn’t you tell me you were fine? Why so nervous now?” Abigail’s voice was lowered, though the office was empty except for the desk manager.

“Because I am too damn young to be getting lumbago, or pneumonia. Or-or…”

“Shush now, it ain’t that bad. Don’t you think that if it were that bad, you’d be feeling worse off.”

The doctor opened the door to his office, escorting his previous patient out before looking to John.

“You go on, now. I’ll wait right here.” Abigail forced her elbow into John’s side and his breath hitched as he stood.

“That’s me.” John followed the doctor back into his office, looking over his shoulder to his friend waving him away.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Marston?” The doctor was a middle-aged man, reminding John too much of Hosea. It was off-putting to say the least.

“I-I’m an omega, sir,” John began, taking a seat at the chair in the center of the room. “My friend…and my mate are worried ‘bout me.”

“How so?” The doctor grabbed his own seat, placing it to John’s side facing him.

“My heat. It was meant to be this week but it’s not as…hard as it used to be.”

The doctor sat forward, asking if he could put his hands on John before he did so. “No fever, no chills? Are you producing slick?”

John was nervous as the man touched at his neck, kneading two fingers against his scent gland. “N-not as much as the last time.”

“And you said a mate but I don’t see a marking bite,” the doctor added, matter-of-factly.

“It’s a chest bond, sir,” John said, and by the look on the doctor’s face, he might as well have said that he believed in fairytales.

Still, the doctor shrugged it off. “Can I ask a personal question, Mr. Marston?”

John nodded, knowing that it was par for the course.

“When was the last time you had sex?” The doctor pulled his hands back, showing the omega both palms before asking to touch John’s waist.

“A week ago,” John stated quickly, remembering that roll around on Arthur’s new gift.

“And before that?” The doctor pressed his fingers to the omega’s sides, then under John’s navel which brought a low growl and a baring of his teeth.

The doctor quickly retracted his hands, showing his palms again while John reeled back the sudden snap. He thought about it. Between his last heat and now?

John thought back to the night Arthur took Lenny to the saloon. The whisky breath was already seeping back into his nostrils, feeling warm arms curl around him as he tasted sweat on his tongue.

“’Bout a month ago,” John said finally with a sigh, eyes still glazed over with memory of his alpha telling him words he waited so long for, the tug in his chest stilled and the morning after.

“That’s about right.” The doctor took his hands back again. “And on that night, did he knot?”

John sheepishly grinned, nodding once and looking down to his lap.

“And you did the same?”

“Yeah, I think I did.” John thought about it again. He definitely did, he remembered the two-man job it took to pry them apart.

The doctor grinned suddenly, sitting back in his seat as he nodded. “I’ve seen this a lot in my day. As soon as that omega knot is coaxed just right, that’s all that’s needed.”

“Whatd’ya mean?” John sat up straight.

“You are pregnant, Mr. Marston. And four weeks is about that time.” The doctor showed his hand again, then pressed under John’s navel again. “Do you feel that?”

John felt a gentle press, a sensitive wall being touched inside. His teeth bared again but he withheld his growl.

“It’s bloated, where your baby will be. It’s natural for it to be sensitive at this time.”

The doctor pulled his hand away again and John sat forward. “You said four weeks, shouldn’t it be six? My heat…”

The man shook his head, “That is a common misconception, Mr. Marston. Your heat is simply an extra fertile time for your body to become pregnant. Now, if there’s no knot, or a lessened bond, there’s no telling if the omega knot will catch.”

John opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He stared down at his lap, at the pudge of his stomach in the thermal he took from Arthur. _Arthur._ His mouth turned into an unamused smirk. _This isn’t gonna be easy._

“What do I do now?” John asked lowly.

The doctor clicked his tongue, “This is your first pregnancy?”

John slowly nodded, bringing his eyes up to look at the doctor. He hadn’t taken a moment to sniff out the man, only to realize he was a gamma. He relaxed further in his chair at that, waiting for whatever the wise man had to say.

“I suggest telling your mate. And you’ll need plenty of rest when it comes down to it.” The doctor was patient with John. He stared up at the ceiling, exposed dark wood.

“Mr. Marston,” the man’s voice cut into John’s thoughts, “I’m not sure of your livelihood but I strongly suggest you taking it easy.”

At that, John slowly stood, suddenly feeling his weight shift. He opened the door with the doctor to follow, seeing Abigail’s warm grin greet him from her seat. The look on his face must’ve warded it away because her smile slowly fell.

“John, you alright?” Abigail slowly stood up, curling her arm around John’s waist.

“He’s just fine. It might be best for you two to get on home.”

John was silent, normally a blessing, but it made Abigail uneasy. “Well? Say something.”

“I’m pregnant,” John finally said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do I and the beautifully reverred Arthur Morgan have in common?
> 
> We both hate shooting from the hip but end up doing it anyways.


	14. The New Foundation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to come to terms with what this new revelation means. He also wonders how he'll tell Arthur. He also gets a hint into a train job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John, John, John. 
> 
> I accidentally made this whole chapter more John-centric but I dunno, I like it sometimes. Definitely need to get back to a couple Arthur-centered chapters but come on, John is the mo-fa-pa-carrier of your child, Arthur, you can't be selfish.

John demanded stopping at the train station on their way back to camp. Abigail furrowed her brows, glancing over her shoulder to her friend but pulled Old Boy to a halt.

“I’ll be back.” He climbed off of his horse with a tender pat to the steed’s mane.

He promised to return to his newly made friend in Valentine when the man caught wind of another good train to rob. John hadn’t brought anything up in weeks, only skirting by with his contribution to camp out of his own pocket. If he kept his mind off of what he just learned, maybe he would have a better way to tell Arthur.

“Good morning, John,” the sigma behind the gated counter spoke, the door swinging closed.

“Mornin’,” John said, approaching the counter and leaning against it. He purposefully forced his shoulders apart, keeping his stomach from the jutting lip of the counter. Now knowing what it was, John thought about all the smokes he’d had in the wait time.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head free of the thought. “You got a train for me?”

The man behind the counter, Sigma Orville, shook his head. “I’m sorry, John. Ain’t heard nothing about Mr. Cornwall’s trains in weeks.”

John tsked in disappointment, straightening up and patting the counter. “Sorry to hear that. Thanks anyways.”

“Any time, John.” The man waved John out, leaving the omega to stand on the deck wondering where to go next.

“You ready?” Abigail called from his horse, grabbing Old Boy’s rein and pulling him in the direction of camp.

John waved his friend off as he heard a couple on the train bench on the wayside. “Gimme a minute, woman.”

He turned around the corner, forcing his hands in his pockets, and sat in the free seat on the bench next to the couple waiting for the train.

“Did’ya hear? That Linton girl and her crazy cult brother packed up and moved down south,” The delta woman began to her equal. “They sold their daddy’s house, tried to get on the train full of them wealthy folk coming through this way. But them tickets were too high.”

“You always been a leaky faucet,” her friend retorted with a scoff, only to lean forward and glance at John. He tried to not react when she gave a tentative sniff his way, shrugging her shoulders and sitting back to look at her friend.

John kept his mouth tightly pressed, to not react to anything about Mary, that selfish woman. He felt a sudden sense of pride rush through him because at least he had Arthur now, was carrying his ever-forming pup.

He shook his head, now wasn’t the time to fall in love with the thought of a pup. The normal nagging of John’s mind was being sat on by the new revelation that he was carrying. It was going to be a difficult talk with Arthur, soon. A lot of things would have to change quickly, or in due time.

“Well, you know I love to gossip,” the first girl said, being the anchor to yank John out of his own problem again.

He unconsciously rested a hand on his stomach, rubbing it with lazy pride and withholding a stung hiss. All while he leaned in as the girl’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“They should be setting off in a week or so, I think it’d be fun to stop by here then and watch them pass.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go see a vaudeville instead?” Her friend’s tone was slightly annoyed, and that drew a lazy grin from John’s lips before he stood.

Replacing his hands in his pockets, he rounded the corner to Abigail waiting with Old Boy.

“You ready now?” Abigail snapped, her tone suddenly changed from the chipper it was leaving the doctor.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” John mounted up, putting his arm around Abigail.

She gave Old Boy’s rein a soft whip with a ‘yah’ to follow. On the way back to camp, John pressed his hand to his stomach again, letting the sensitive press remind him of everything he was told.

Between the doctor and the train, John suddenly had a lot to talk about to Arthur. No more about tent sharing and proclamations of love, this was getting dense and John felt himself steadily calming down.

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” Abigail spoke up over Old Boy’s trot.

“Whatcha mean?” John was delving too much into his mind today already, he was sure he’d be mentally exhausted before noon.

“I felt that you was pregnant, but I didn’t wanna say nothing.”

“Why not? Spare me the money for the doctor, huh?” John jested, leaning to catch the expression on Abigail’s face.

She gave him a quick glance, lips lined together in an unamused smile. “’Cause I know what you think of kids, John. Or what you used to think.”

John recalled that talk with Abigail, during one of their heats they shared together. “It ain’t bad what I think of kids. It’s just…this life ain’t meant for them.”

“And I know that, but there ain’t much to change now. You know Arthur won’t leave Dutch behind, the girls. Hosea.” Abigail pulled back Old Boy’s rein with a snort from him.

John knew that. Even if he did convince Arthur away from Dutch and the girls, who Arthur considered his young sisters, the alpha would never leave his mentor beta behind. He’d never turn away from the one constant father he had in his life.

John didn’t want that anyways. He’d never make Arthur choose. He couldn’t. But outlaws and pups never mixed well. The run was no place for a child to grow up.

“I don’t want him to leave ‘em behind. Hell, I wouldn’t want to either.” John could do without Micah in the picture but that manic alpha was on his way to reformation. If he didn’t keep an eye on him, Arthur definitely would once he knew about the pup.

He exhaled shakily, his arm tightening around his friend’s waist. “I dunno how to tell him. How do I tell him?”

Abigail was quiet, turning Old Boy into the entrance of the camp. Charles called out for their confirmation and Abigail replied, gaining them a warm welcome.

“You just gotta tell him. Don’t drag it out. You already know he’s gonna be happy ‘bout it,” Abigail said, stopping the horse at the hitch. She turned over her shoulder. “He _is_ gonna be happy ‘bout this, John. There ain’t no reason not to be.”

John’s breath caught unevenly through his throat, causing him to hick in anxiety. Abigail rested a hand on his shoulder, then brought it up to his scarred cheek. She tenderly scritched at the light stubble, staring into John’s dark eyes, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yer gonna be a great daddy, John. Between you and Arthur, that pup’s gonna be loved. You don’t gotta go nowhere. You know what we’re family, we’ll take care of you.”

John felt his nose sting suddenly, fighting off the dewy nature of his eyes. His hand cradled Abigail’s to his cheek, he pressed a kiss to the heel of her palm. “Yer my best friend, Abigail.”

“I know I am.” Abigail grinned softly before pulling her hands away to dismount from the horse. She hitched Old Boy with a whinny of defeat from him, gave him a steady pat along his snout. “Now you go tell yer alpha the good news.”

John followed suit, climbing down from his horse. “You don’t tell nobody else, okay?”

Abigail nodded, then shooed John away to his tent. He had things he needed to do.

John managed to get inside the tent and back into his nest without disturbing a snoring Arthur. Upon seeing him, smelling him in the air, John wanted nothing else than to tell him, remind him, berate him about how he was carrying his pup.

He reached a hand out, instantly infatuated by the look of his sleeping alpha. John felt blissed out, his finger tracing along Arthur’s hairy jaw and reveling in the scratches, scars and dents in his skin.

John would never tell Arthur he was beautiful, not now anyways. The relax in Arthur’s face, his unfurled brows and untensed lips cradled against the pillow was enough though.

Now was the question of how to tell him, or which to tell him first. John slowly nudged forward, pressing himself close to the dead asleep alpha and perching his nose just in Arthur’s collarbone. His head rested just below the alpha’s strong jaw and he heard the man’s purr echo through him, soothe his nerves all the way down to practically cradling John’s insides, making the weight steady.

Arthur grunted awake with a slight jerk of his head, finding John’s hair across his pillow. He reached an arm up and around his omega, his eyes slowly blinking awake.

“Hey,” he said, his voice still tainted with sleep. “When’d you get back?”

John didn’t want to pull from Arthur’s warmth, only adjusted himself to rest his head beside his. “Not too long ago.” He decided to answer Arthur’s questions than blurt it out on his own. Let Arthur’s concern lead to the important news.

“What’d they say? You alright?” Arthur brought his rough hand up to his face, rubbing and massaging at his brow before bringing it down to line his fuzzy jaw.

John stared into Arthur’s eyes, explored the depth of the blue. He wanted to remember this like he could everything else of Arthur, wanted to see the expression behind his eyes before it reached his face.

Arthur stared back, blinking in dazed confusion. John was silent after he’d asked a question, and Arthur wasn’t how long it’d take for an answer.

John reared his head up in his hand, his other pulling Arthur’s hand down to his waist. He grinned as the confusion grew on the alpha’s face, still waiting for an answer.

Arthur let John take his hand where he wanted it, only to rest it, press it to his pudge of a stomach. The alpha stared blankly, the action not registering to his brain. He really needed coffee.

“I’m fine, Arthur,” John said, his hand imploring Arthur to pet gently at his stomach. “Better than that, actually.”

“So what they say it was?” Arthur’s hand mimicked John’s action, the two chains certainly not linking.

John huffed, entertained by the morning mind of Arthur. He could really be dense if he wanted to be. Then again, John hadn’t spelled out anything of importance beside the sensitivity of his stomach.

Arthur’s eyes threatened to close at the pet of John’s stomach, a soft and plush roam of his skin covered by Arthur’s own shirt. He grinned lazily, knowing that he’d have to take it back just to have John on him.

He watched Arthur’s hand touch him softly, his fingers going in small concentric circles that didn’t make John hiss or bare his teeth in protection. Of course, Arthur could touch his stomach that way. It was his pup.

John leaned in with a toothy grin. “I’m pregnant, Arthur.”

Arthur forced his eyes open, still being lulled by the pet of John’s pudge. He stopped in the motion, his hand now firmly under John’s navel, his palm feeling the heat buried behind it.

“’M sorry, I don’t think I heard you right.” Arthur didn’t try denying it, only searched John’s dark eyes for confirmation.

“Yer gonna be a daddy, Arthur Morgan,” John stated, watching Arthur’s eyes dart between his then down at his hand before back up.

The alpha went slack jawed, the excitement roaring through him better than any morning brew. He sat up, over John as he started to bear the largest grin. John tried to contain his amusement seeing the alpha, Arthur, so wild and overjoyed.

“You serious?” Arthur asked with John’s nod to follow.

This took away the nag in John’s mind. He didn’t want to think about it, but he thought that Arthur would’ve rejected the thought. Instead, Arthur flipped John’s borrowed shirt up, revealing his sensitive stomach before pressing a few kisses just along the omega’s waist.

“I’m gonna be a daddy,” Arthur muttered against John’s skin, even as John chuckled that his breath was ticklish. “I’m gonna be a daddy.”

Arthur pressed another kiss to John’s stomach, holding it there as he shut his eyes. With a deep inhale, he nudged his nose and honed in on it. A sweeter, lighter scent that was now attached to John.

His jaw tensed then, holding back the water pooling in his eyes by squeezing them tighter. _I will protect you, no matter what._ Arthur’s heart started to race, familiarizing himself with that extra kick at the back end of John’s intoxicating scent. Almost like a mint twist, or a sweet radish.

Whatever it was, Arthur was now holding himself to it, grinning and chuckling lowly like a madman that found gold. He had to open his eyes, the furrow of his brows now trembling.

He was going to be a dad. He was going to be there this time. Arthur was not leaving John’s side, he wasn’t going to let his bonded mate down. He loved this man, respected this man for all he was worth.

A few stray tears slipped from his eyes, dripping onto John’s skin before they were slowly absorbed. With another few kisses, Arthur left John’s stomach alone, returning to look his omega in the eyes.

“Whatcha crying for? I thought you were happy,” John’s voice turned to rasp, his hands reaching to cradle Arthur’s face. His thumbs wiped away the tear trails on the alpha’s cheeks, coaxed the soft skin under his eyes.

“I am, dammit.” Arthur leaned into John’s touch, nuzzling against his omega’s palms. “I am.”

John’s grin turned pitiful, “It’s gonna be okay.” He nudged himself to sit up, pressing a deep kiss on the alpha’s trembling lips. “We got you.”

Arthur huffed at that, his lips in a tender smile. He returned his hand to John’s stomach. “Yeah. I guess you do, huh?”

John nodded eagerly. Arthur lightened in John’s hold, resting his body back down with his head against the omega’s thin chest.

“I love you, Arthur.” John couldn’t help the phrase slip, his hands now petting through the alpha’s chestnut hair.

Arthur hid his face in John’s shirt, muttering his love for John directly at the tug planted in the omega’s chest.

John would take it. It was only meant for them. If anyone else listened in on them saying it, John felt that he’d have to attack. It was each other’s to hear, no one else’s.

They stayed in their embrace for a long moment, until Pearson pulled the coffee and started preparing stew. It wasn’t until Abigail pulled back the flaps of the tent to let light in that John realized he fell back asleep.

Arthur had too, curled into John’s side, a hand planted firmly over his mate’s stomach in protection.

“Come on, boys, let’s have some lunch," Abigail said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Father's Day to Hosea, John and Arthur only.


	15. Pouring Forth Oil I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tells Arthur more news that fair in their favor, the boys decide to plan a train job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wrote this shit out....like I'm sorry, but this is so long I've had to cut it into maybe three parts. If you're reading this note, the other two chapters are being posted right now. 
> 
> I couldn't help it. This is one of my favorite missions. I'm sorry.

At the table in front of Pearson’s camp, Arthur sat next to John. The alpha devoured his stew with vigor while John managed to disguise his grimace with a noisy slurp of the red juices.

With Arthur’s stare on him, John powered through the tasteless bowl of vegetable heads and mystery meat.

Arthur circled his arm around John’s waist, trailing his fingers along the younger outlaw’s side while offering a gentle purr. Abigail sat across from the pair with a grin growing on her face. She leaned forward, looking around the camp to make sure none of the gossipy girls were around.

“So how you feel, Arthur?” She asked, her brows raising hopefully.

Arthur finished his stew with a final spoonful then covered his mouth with his fist as he chewed. He couldn’t hide his excitement; it was hard to wipe from his face. John noticed that his alpha’s eyes were brighter than usual, a neutral smile curling the corners of his mouth up.

His hand on John’s side curled around to the omega’s stomach, giving it a singular pet as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Couldn’t be happier,” Arthur said, leaning in to kiss against the shell of John’s ear.

There was no denying that things felt like they were looking up. Even though John told him not to associate the things he couldn’t control with his expression of feelings, Arthur wanted to use this blessing as the best argument for saying what John needed to hear.

He’d get there. Arthur was coming around to it, the feeling was true. But he never thought that he’d get this far with John in the first place.

John’s cheeks started to flush at the alpha’s warm breath retaining in his curtain of hair. “Quit it, you.” He pressed his hand Arthur’s cheek, mushing at it before turning to nuzzle the alpha.

Another look at Abigail, John recalled the information from the train station. “Oh hey, I heard earlier, in town ‘bout some train full of wealthy folk comin’ up from the south. Might be a good thing to look into.” He took another tentative spoonful of his meal with Arthur giving his stomach a final pat.

“Sure, I’ll get Bill and Javier to stake it out,” Arthur said, standing up to drop his dish off by Pearson’s tent.

“I’ll come with you,” John added, dropping the rest of his stew to the ground before following after. “We can go at night, not too guarded, it’s perfect.”

Arthur froze, tried to not let the sudden dread that seeped into him show. He turned over his shoulder. “It’s alright if you sit this one out, John.”

“Ain’t happenin’. I’ve been skirtin’ by for weeks now.”

“Ain’t different than before then,” Arthur joked, flashing a quick grin. “Come on, you don’t really wanna go, d’ya?”

John furrowed his brows, leaning against the table next to Abigail. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Abigail quickly swatted her friend’s thigh, offering a hushed threat for taunting. Arthur’s brows knitted together, gave John a once over, trying to not drag his eyes over his omega’s lean stomach.

“I-I dunno, John,” Arthur turned away with a step, placing his hands on his hips as his head bobbed in thought. John was a good tag along for jobs like this, but damn it if both parts of Arthur weren’t concerned.

“If it makes you feel better, just think about it. But don’t leave me and go do it by yerselves.” John’s eyes narrowed, catching onto Arthur’s cerulean eyes. He knew what the alpha was thinking, it was stupid to not see it.

Arthur stopped in his leisurely pacing. “You know, stoppin’ a train is a pain in the ass.”

John crossed his arms before his chest, tightening them to give his small pectorals a squeeze. “Sure, but what if we could force the train to stop.”

“’Course,” Arthur said, waiting for his mate to continue.

“We get a wagon, full of something flammable, oil, put it on the tracks.” John gave Abigail a quick glance, saw her shake her head and roll her eyes. “They see it, they know they either have to stop or die. Ain’t no train driver wants to be cooked alive.”

“He ain’t gonna let you go now,” Abigail whispered lowly, turning away from the men’s conversation.

Arthur mulled it over, his lips pursing in though before he nodded in agreement. “That is kinda brilliant.”

John grinned suddenly, not knowing how to deal with such praise. And from his alpha no less. He quickly squashed it before raising his brows to Arthur.

“That is a real idea. I think that’s the first time you ever had one of them.” Arthur chuckled, wagging his finger in John’s direction.

He reached out to thwap Arthur’s meaty bicep. “Shut up.”

Arthur was amused with himself, laughing and grinning even as John’s face started to redden. “I…I’m sorry, John.” The alpha breathed between his lowered guffaws.

John shook his head, dropping his hands from his chest. “Yeah, yeah. I hope you enjoy your next rut alone. So, we doin’ this?”

“Keep sweet talkin’ him, I’m sure it’s helpin’.” Abigail added with a girlish giggle to follow.

Arthur opened his mouth in a solid objection to John’s comment, even though the possibility of the man holding a grudge so long was unreliable. “Well, we’re gonna need ammunition, guns, look real frightening and some dynamite to open up the train.”

“I’ll get those supplies next time we head into town,” John said, nodding towards Abigail. “We gotta go back soon, anyways.”

John rolled his eyes as Arthur glared at him. “I’ll try and find us an oil wagon. I know just the place. I’ll take Bill.”

“There’s a rundown shack just over the border, north of a place called Dewberry Creek. You can leave it hidden somewhere near there.” John didn’t bother to argue that point, plus he’d probably be annoyed with Bill like Arthur would be soon enough.

“Alright, I’ll give us a week. You gather the supplies, I’ll get the wagon.” Arthur looked around the camp for the other wild alpha. He called for Bill, whistled for him while giving the signal to mount up then started towards his Shire.

He stopped, snaked his arm around John’s waist paying extra attention to the softness under his navel, and planted a kiss on John’s cheek. “You call the shot next, alright? You be careful.”

“You too,” John said, straightening out the alpha’s shirt collar.

Abigail made a kissy noise from behind John and he gave her the finger before catching Arthur’s lips in a quick peck. After he left, John returned to leaning against the table, staring down at Abigail.

“You two really made a turnaround, huh?” Abigail pushed up from her chair and started in the direction of the laundry line.

John caught up with her, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s like nothin’s different from when we first got together.”

“But y’all weren’t knocking boots every night or so then.” Abigail plucked a long cloth from the clothesline after checking it was dry then started to fold it.

John smirked at that. “Yer right. Guess things have gotten better then.” He stuck his tongue out at his friend, only for her to mirror his action.

_Arthur had to reconvene himself after losing Bodaceia. The walk back to shelter was long, filled with wind-whistling and eerie, snow-padded silence. The first few steps over the hill, his chest lurched at the chain leading him in John’s direction._

_He could make it; he knew he could. All he had to do was try. Sliding down the hill, Arthur scrambled to his feet, retrieving Bodaceia’s saddle that slid even further away._

_“John!” Arthur called out over the quiet snow caps, hoping to hear the strained rasp that was so comforting to hear._

_He thought about how John was eating, if he was warm enough. That was all that pulled him forward._

_“John,” Arthur called out a second time, echoing between the mountain peaks and down the tree-lined valleys. The only thing that could tell him he was going in the right direction was the pull._

_Folding a hand over his chest, Arthur rubbed the heel of his palm into his chest, their bond now constricting around his heart as it lurched again. He picked his feet up in the snow, hoping to gain more ground._

_He started up a sharper hill, calling after John before Bodaceia’s saddle slipped from his hold again. Arthur stopped, catching his breath in the thinning air, his nose pinched up to the bridge in snipping cold._

_If he pushed harder, he’d make it. The sunlight diminished entirely with the moon reflecting over the untouched snow. Arthur blinked, his eyes stinging from the dry cold and he was ready to collapse._

_“John,” he said, his voice no longer reaching its top volume. Arthur forced himself to take a knee in the snow, panting and adjusting, readjusting his bandana, his hat, his jacket._

_John didn’t have that luxury, having to bundle so tightly without Arthur to hold him._

_“I’m comin’.” Arthur clawed forward, only losing his breath and hand at the same time, ending up piled in the snow._

_He woke up to hooves kicking up snow. Raising his gloved hand, he waved down the person only to be pulled out from the sinking ground._

_“Arthur, what’re you doing out here?” Hosea asked as Javier assisted the alpha onto his horse._

_“I…I been lookin’ for John,” Arthur gasped for air, his lips cracking from the wet and now the cold._

_“Where’s Bodaceia?” Javier turned over his shoulder to look his tired friend in the face._

_Arthur only shook his head, reaching for Bodaceia’s saddle from where he sat._

_“We can try again tomorrow Arthur. I know we’ll find him.” The elder beta reached out, patting Arthur’s broad shoulder. “Let’s get you warmed up.”_


	16. Putting Forth Oil II & III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and John are feeling a little tense with Arthur's rut started to set in, leaving John in an interesting positon leading up to the train job.

It took two weeks to gather all of the supplies. Arthur was able to snag an oil wagon from the refinery with minimal effort, but the ammunition necessary for so many guns were in short supply.

John sat up, holding his hip as he tried to not wake Arthur. He’d already stumbled over the man twice before, but he was about to do it a third time.

“Hey,” Arthur muttered, feeling John shift across the bedroll. “Where you goin’ now?”

“Same place as last time,” John whispered, climbing over Arthur’s large frame and making his way to the flap of the tent.

“Alright,” Arthur let him go with a glance over his shoulder, realizing that it was too early in the morning, even for roosters.

He slowly shifted to sit, hearing John tiptoe far enough from camp to do his business. Arthur rubbed his eyes with a low yawn, waiting for John to return so he could return to sleep.

When John did, Arthur held his hand out for him, pulling his omega into his lap.

“Arthur,” John said tiredly, his eyelids weighing back to sleep. He nuzzled his face against the alpha’s shoulder, scenting him before teetering to his bedroll.

“He’s gonna give you a run for yer money, huh?” Arthur followed after John, nudging his face over the omega’s shoulder as he faced away.

“How do you know it’s a he?” John asked, lulling back to sleep at Arthur’s arms around his waist.

“Just a guess.” Arthur nosed at the meet of John’s neck and shoulder, wishing he could milk his scent gland on the opposite side.

John’s hand reached back to gently pat the alpha’s full beard. “Go back to bed, dummy.”

Later that day, John returned from Valentine with the rest of supplies and Bill still chatting up a storm. He’d managed to get the brotherly alpha to shut up in the armory, with Bill touching and cocking every gun in the store.

However, he started to wear John’s nerve when the omega stopped by the butcher. His complaining about the smell, the shit in the streets, was enough to guide John away from the task of finding something for Arthur. A new satchel, maybe even a cover for his clothes chest.

Something for the way he’d been a bit insufferable about being short with him. Arthur didn’t deserve it; John knew deep down. It was just that he didn’t get sleep now, and he wouldn’t get it much later.

Also, Arthur’s rut was starting to set in. A week of that man being three times what he was now was going to wreak havoc on John’s back.

That was another thing John couldn’t get away from. Just Arthur being Arthur. The man chopping wood, breezing through chores and sweating as he did so was enough to make John stop and pant like a wild dog.

He wished he hadn’t been so happy about his dampened heat, at least then he’d have gotten it out of his system a bit. Now he was getting no piece, and that lead to no peace.

And that led to being short with his own damned alpha. And Bill now.

“Arthur, if you don’t get yer brother,” John started, stamping all the way up to Arthur sitting by the cliff’s edge.

The alpha pulled himself away for a long moment, trying to keep himself from snapping and making a fuss in camp over the ever-growing agitation in his back. He’d suppressed his growl so much; it was permanently lodged in his throat. His omega coming up with his own little annoyance was almost enough to drive Arthur feral.

“What’sa matter?” He forced his journal shut then into his satchel, pushing himself to his feet.

“I can’t stand him talkin’ right now. I think I’m gonna go for his throat.” John’s menial growl, baring his omegan canines was a precious effort in showing his anger.

If only Arthur could enjoy it. He reached out for John, gripped at the younger outlaw’s jaw before sizing him up with an aggressive snarl. “You want me to take care of him?”

John reached for Arthur’s chest, giving him a reassuring pat before squeezing at the fingers lining his jaw. “It’s alright. We’ll be alright.”

Arthur quickly reeled back, catching his breath before pulling John closer. He nosed at the omega’s scent gland, lapping up the oil that secreted after. His shoulders relaxed immediately, inhaling John’s calming scent with the pinch to follow.

“You gonna be okay?” John did the same to Arthur’s neck, nuzzling his face against the scent gland before nipping at his alpha’s skin.

“I’ll be fine. You got the supplies?” Arthur pulled back far enough, rubbing John’s arms down then letting go.

He felt his vision start to go red around the edges, his rut probably less than a few days away. Arthur was stoking the fire now, going forward with attacking the train. Gunsmoke always hyped his senses and kickstarted him into going full animal.

John hadn’t seen it yet and Arthur hoped he could’ve starved it for a while longer, but it was rearing its ugly head now. He wanted to take some time away, sweat it out another time but all of him was still planted firmly, wanting to sweat it out by John’s side.

John nodded, holding out the duffle filled with ammo and dynamite. Arthur picked it up, slung it over his shoulder.

“I’m comin’ with ya,” John demanded.

Arthur shook his head. Not that John couldn’t handle himself, not that Arthur didn’t trust him. He just wanted to focus on the task at hand, not be distracted by how sweet John was smelling or if he was taking it easy.

He let his growl free then, letting it rumble through his chest and out of his throat before he bared his sharpened canines in a full-fledged snarl. “Now John, I been patient with ya. I know that it was yer plan but I can’t havin’ you with us.”

John bit the inside of his cheek, withholding his own agitation though Arthur’s growl shook through his core. The slick started down his thighs, making his pants damp as he stood strong against his growling mate.

He stared into Arthur’s eyes, how they darkened the more he let loose a growl. John felt his knees begin to wobble, his hands balling to fists. He would not submit, not right now.

He needed this; they both did. Just to release the tension. It was either this or another way. John felt his neck start to ache on one side, the tug in his chest yanking harshly in an effort for John to fold.

Arthur raised a brow, admiring John’s grip on himself. He wanted to grab the omega then and let him win, let him show his strength. His mouth watered at the ramped-up scent coming from John, making his vision worse.

“No, I’m coming with you,” John said finally, choking out his words though they burned when he did.

He reached his hand out to rest against Arthur’s chest, trying to catch the heavy pant from leaving him. Arthur refused to seize, letting free the aggression he held for the past few days. Maybe it was everything he couldn’t let go earlier after learning that John pacified him with producing slick.

John slowly bowed his head, forcing his knees together and taking deep breaths. He tried not to sweat, knowing that it was just another symptom for presenting. “Arthur, please.”

Arthur stopped, seeing his omega close to dropping to the ground and begging to be mounted. He licked his lips, tasting the faint dew of slick in the air.

John rolled his eyes behind his lids as he inhaled deeply, only catching harsh gulps of Arthur’s scent to follow. Heavy with sweat, laced with chiseled musk and mixed with Kentucky Bourbon. _Rut._

“Goddamn,” John whispered, his hands going for his knees.

Arthur caught his breath, pulling himself back down from the red in his vision. “Let’s go, John.”

The pair barely got far from camp before Arthur pulled shire to stop in the shadow of the rock formations just outside of Valentine.

John’s hips stung, trying to prepare for Arthur. He whined about the trot of the shire, holding a hand between his legs to keep them from chafing.

Arthur apologized, helping his omega from the saddle before leading him against the cool rock.

“You bastard, that hurt,” John said, his temper short with a lit fuse. His knees were still unreliable, stiff from being bent.

“I know. I know,” Arthur whispered over John’s shoulder. “Let me make it up to you.”

He rolled John’s jacket down from his shoulders then circled his hand around his omega’s waist. Arthur gave John’s sensitive stomach a circling pet before he dived his hand down the front of John’s pants.

John’s breath suddenly picked up, feeling Arthur’s fingers scratch down his matted down hair before reaching his swollen clit. John’s hand reached for Arthur’s wrist, throwing his head forward to hiss at the alpha’s heavy touch.

Arthur’s other hand lined up John’s throat, forced him to rest his head back against his shoulder. He released a light purr for John to release his hand, letting him slip further.

“I’m sorry, John,” Arthur whispered against John’s ear before taking a nibble at his lobe.

John tried to stay hard, his knees buckling once again as Arthur’s finger parted his slickened folds. He nodded heavily, obediently, waiting for Arthur to sink his finger inside and causing John to pant excitedly.

His mouth fell open, staring up at the blue sky as Arthur curled his finger. Then John reached around to the alpha’s hardened length, pawing at it as Arthur slipped a second finger inside.

“Fuck,” John bit out, his eyelids falling half-mast. The pad of Arthur’s thumb pressed to his clit again and John wanted to grab the alpha’s hand again, but instead melted against his chest. “Arthur, please.”

Arthur kept on, his purr slowly seeping into a frustrated growl. John was dripping onto his hand, gushing from his well. He drew his lip in, gnawing at Arthur’s favorite chew toy to hide back his moans.

John bucked his hips back, into Arthur’s throbbing dick, letting him know what the better to be pleased with. The warmth inched up his back, joined with the heat emanating from Arthur now.

“We gotta hurry up, Darlin’,” Arthur whispered, turning John to look at him.

John’s eyes dilated staring his alpha, his fingers still curling and scrubbing between his legs. His pants came out heavy and fast, leaning further towards Arthur to catch him in a kiss.

Arthur forced his body harder against John’s, bucking his hips against his omega’s backside. John snaked his arm up and into Arthur’s hair, tipping the outlaw’s hat forward before fisting his locks.

The warmth came to fruition, bringing John’s body to seize. He stifled a panting mewl into Arthur’s mouth, reaching a high and coming on his alpha’s rough fingers.

Arthur groaned, his closed eyes rolling as more slick gushed into his palm. He stopped in his buck, pulling from John’s kiss to nip at the omega’s scent gland.

He followed John’s chest in heaving breaths, staring down the collar of his shirt before kissing his omega’s jaw. Arthur withdrew his hands slowly, taking his time to revel in the glisten on his fingers.

John lolled his head along Arthur’s shoulder, blissed out from coming.

“Come on, now.” Arthur used himself to stand John upright, adjusting himself in the process.

Arthur licked his fingers to stave off his rut, if only for the next few hours, then led his cloud-nine omega back to his steed.

Pulling off of the path, Arthur heard a few practice gunshots from the wagon. John’s hold loosened on Arthur’s waist until they came to a full stop.

Both of the pair dismounted with Arthur walking up behind Sean practicing his shooting with a few glass bottles on the wooden wagon next to the oil one.

John wandered over to the front of the wagon, still feeling the alpha’s heavy touch on him, causing him to twitch in remnant pleasure.

Sean let off another shot with a frustrated groan to follow.

“Well, at least it ain’t your job,” Arthur started with shift of his shoulders.

“Ah, shut up, Arthur.” Sean quickly bit back.

“Yeah, your job’s starting the fights, it ain’t winning them.” Arthur stepped away from the scrappy young alpha with a glance over the wagon.

John held onto the side of the wagon, staring after his alpha reeking of rut. He had to focus, snapping his head down to stare at the ground. Forcing a few steady breaths, John let the rest of his body react to the ghosting touch of Arthur a bit more before he straightened up.

“I can scrap, Arthur. I’m just no good at home work.” Sean took another shot at a tall brown bottle, only for it to black into the wood of the abandoned wagon.

“Besides, what do you care, Englishman,” Sean said, turning to Arthur. He took an inquisitive sniff, his green eyes slowly dilating at the slick rubbed on Arthur’s pant leg. “You’ve got no time for me. I tried to find you work but then you’re off cutting jobs with other folks and your boy Sean doesn’t get a look in.”

Arthur was not ready to listen to the Irish boy continue to mouth off, not today and not at this moment. He sloshed his tongue in his mouth, the buzz of honey taste deep in the crevices.

“Guess I don’t wanna get shot, that’s all,” Arthur added, his voice a slightly entertained lilt.

Sean turned down to reload his gun. “You’re a real fucking funny shit, Arthur Morgan, huh? Real fucking funny.”

“Calm down.” Arthur’s patience was wearing thinner already, ready to bark the rowdy Sean down to his level.

“You better sleep with your eyes open.” Sean threatened, turning to face the bigger, broader alpha.

The red seeped into Arthur’s vision again, the agitation instantly rearing up in his shoulders. He cut the distance between them, leaning into Sean’s face as he jarred his mouth open.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna sleep with your chest open if you ain’t careful, boy.” Arthur barked, all amusement wiped from his face.

Sean slowly forced out an airy chuckle. “I love ya, Arthur Morgan. I love ya. Come on, take a shot. Come on, take your best shot, please.”

John stood upright at Sean egging Arthur on, only for the older alpha to take a shot from his hip. The brown bottle exploded and Arthur walked away with a simple demand for Sean to grow up.

He walked over to John, circling around him as Sean followed.

“Let me come on the raid with yous.” Sean’s tone changed to meek and pleading. He holstered his gun as Arthur raised his head to him.

“Raid?”

“Don’t be playing coy with me, son, it’s unbecoming.” Sean started to follow Arthur around the wagon as the older outlaw checked the undercarriage. “That bloody train you and him has set up.”

The redhead motioned over to John, leaning against the wagon as he shook his head. Sean pleading his case was falling on deaf ears, especially Arthur’s.

“What, Marston tell you about that?” Arthur stopped on the opposite side of the wagon, patting at the single horse attached at the front. He glanced over to John, who shook his head. “It ain’t a big show. I need calmness. If I take you, I might as well bring Micah along.”

“I told him he wasn’t coming last I saw him,” John interjected, turning to snarl at the young alpha. “Guess he don’t listen too good.”

“Compare me to that oily turd again and you’re a dead man,” Sean said pointedly, following Arthur to the other side.

John continued his sneer, his stitches poking into his skin the longer it stayed. Arthur huffed entertained at the redhead’s empty threat but continued in his task.

“Anyway, Arthur, what’s your problem with me?”

“How much time you got?” John added, feeling Arthur’s agitation grow and blanket over his shoulders with a heavy weight. Sean gave him a side glare before continuing on.

“In fact, don’t tell me. I already know.” Sean approached Arthur as he knelt to look under the horse, make sure its straps were secured.

Arthur willfully ignored Sean’s tactics, still mulling his tongue around to catch the last bits of sweet he got from John. He chastised himself inside for wiping the rest on his pants.

“You’re threatened by me,” Sean said, bringing a scoff from John before he covered his mouth to smile.

Sean waved him away with Arthur parroting the statement back as a question. “Threatened by you?”

“Yeah, my youthful vigor, it intimidates you.” Sean egged on, with Arthur still keeping his mind off of the riled young alpha to not flare up his rut anymore.

“Does it?” Arthur lazily responded, still moving along the back of the wagon to look under it again.

John rested his cheek in his hand, shaking his head after Sean. How Karen put up with his incessant blather, he would never know. But he suddenly applauded the gamma. She probably smothered him with her chest when they were together and that thought made John chuckle to himself.

“It’s a story as old as the hills. The changing of the guard, the fading of the light. You’re toast, old man.” Sean was not finished, but to no one’s surprise. He was just as bad as Bill, running his mouth until he was forced to be quiet.

Arthur leaned from behind the wagon to look at John, who was equally as tired of this one-sided discussion.

“Okay, if I’m so old and dry.” Arthur couldn’t help but grin at himself before his latest accomplishment even slipped from his tongue. He felt his chest already swelling with pride, but by the shake of John’s head, Arthur decided to table the news for later. “Then what’re you?”

“I’m the future, in all its glory.” Sean was boasting himself now, stroking his ever-present young buck ego.

“Yeah, well good luck,” Arthur said, waving the youngling off before rounding the wagon again to sit by John’s feet. “Good luck and shut up. I wanna get some rest before night fall.”

John massaged between his brows with Arthur finally shutting the young alpha up. He watched Sean rest against the rock on the opposite side of the wagon before he sank to his knees.

Arthur forced the heels of his palms into his eyes again, stretching his legs out before resting his head in John’s lap. He tipped his hat down, John’s hand stroking his chest and the three soon fell into a snooze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...once again...have no excuses. 
> 
> John can be a good omega when he wants to be.


	17. Putting Forth Oil IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The train job begins, and Arthur's rut takes full swing while he keeps his eyes on John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET'S GO BOYS, WHERE WE ROBBIN'? 
> 
> Also, I have a feeling that very soon, Arthur is going to punch Sean in the face.

By nightfall, Arthur was the first to wake, jolting upright from John’s lap and scaring his omega awake.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cupping John’s cheek before standing up and tossing a rock over at Sean. “Wake up, you lazy sod.”

The youngling scrambled to his feet with a start. Charles made his way up the hill as John stood and stretched his arms over his head.

“He’s comin’ too?” Charles asked, scratching the back of his head at the redhead practically wagging an invisible tail.

“Arthur says I am and it’s his party, boy, so come on, let’s go.” Sean was quick to climbing in the wagon. “Me and the big cheeses, love it. Can’t wait to slit some bastard’s throat.”

John stared up at the boy before rounding the front of the wagon, patting the horse on its neck. He hissed for Arthur’s attention, nodding towards the youngling already grabbing the reins.

“You sure about this?”

Arthur shook his head with a low ‘no’ to follow, and Sean chuckled himself up a storm.

“Are we ready?” Arthur asked, raising his voice.

“Yeah, train’s due through tonight,” John answered with Charles to nod after.

Arthur rounded the wagon, giving John’s backside a firm tap before pointing to Charles. The silent alpha climbed onto the side of the wagon, holding onto the metal bars as John followed on the other side.

Arthur was careful in watching John, making sure he was secured, holding on tight before climbing onto the wagon. “Gentlemen, let’s go earn some money.”

The leader of the small pack clicked his tongue and whipped the reins, jerking the wagon forward before starting on the path to the spot John designated. With their horses following behind them, the four set off going south-southwest.

“They see this blocking the tracks, they’ll stop soon enough,” Arthur said, sparing a peek back at John before forcing the horse a bit faster.

“Apparently, it picks up a new team of guards at the state line, so shouldn’t be much in the way of guns to deal with.” John added, which was enough to make him relax his shoulders a bit. He purposefully kept his hand away from his stomach, already used to petting it so lovingly. Though all he wanted now was to rub and purr lazily like a fat cat.

“See, this is what I mean. I disappear for a couple of weeks and you cut me out of all the action.” Sean started up again, much to Arthur’s dislike.

“Only the action that requires a brain,” John quipped back, hoping that it’d be enough to muzzle the eager alpha.

Sean laughed mirthlessly. “Yer a funny feller, John Marston. From what folk say, you had your feet up the whole time playing sick, and fondling that new scar like you’re gonna buy it breakfast in the morning.”

Arthur went rigid, the agitation fuming into pure aggression the more Sean spoke up, bringing disrespect to his omega.

John only ignored Sean’s attempt to dig, already knowing the truth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Still, the redhead jabbed again. “Stay close on this, wouldn’t want you getting scratched by a squirrel or something, that could put you outta commission for the rest of the year.”

Arthur’s knuckles tightened around the reins to keep from lashing at Sean’s throat. The growl in his chest started again, only for Charles to cut him off.

“Why do you have to speak so much? It’s incessant.”

“’Cause I’ve still got some blood in me veins. You old bastards have forgotten how to live.”

John shifted on the side of the wagon, ready to strike the young cocky alpha in the back of the head but Charles stopped him with a shake of his head. “It won’t help.”

John scoffed, “I blame you two for rescuin’ him.”

Arthur stashed a smirk to John’s side of the wagon. “Far too much trouble for what we got out of it.”

John shook his head, already kneading his brow before Sean spoke up about his ‘Da’.

“Not the da, please.” John felt so mentally exhausted already, he didn’t need Sean to continue with his mind-numbing dreck. The other two joined in with their protests.

“Not this again,” Arthur grumbled.

“No, no, no,” Charles’s tone was firm and final.

With Sean outnumbered, he finally caved. “Fine, Damn you three. Sulky, Angry, Scar Face. A right barrel of laughs.”

Without dragging anymore conversation out of Sean, they reached their destination with Arthur dealing out orders for each of them. He gave John the easy task of securing the passenger car, a quick feat seeing as the rich never carried weapons.

The four climbed from the wagon with Charles and Arthur freeing the horses. Arthur called them each out, telling them to hide by the tree line. He stood by the tracks, feeling the rumble of them under his boot.

“I’m gonna make sure she slows,” Arthur muttered as John stepped back with shaky breath.

“It’s do or die with you, I like it,” Sean said, excitement tainting through to his very core.

“Get moving,” Arthur ordered before climbing up the wagon and standing on the oil basin.

He pulled up his bandana, his feet splayed apart before brandishing his shotgun from his back. Arthur’s breath picked up as he waited. The light from the train slipped past the trees, shining over each of the gang member’s shadows.

John brandished his shotgun in turn, still peeking over the bushes to see Arthur standing still on the wagon, staring down the train coming around the corner. His heart picked up in his throat while a shock of electricity shot down his legs.

Definitely not the time nor the place but John was aching between his hips again. Arthur was collected, loading his gun as the train screeched to a halt, shining the light on him. He forced his rut to take a backseat, only until the first shot went off. He could hold out that long.

The conductor hopped from the train after two warning whistles and was quickly knocked out by Charles. Arthur followed down the length of the train as the two other alphas went about their job with ease.

Hopping onto the train, Arthur burst through the door of the passenger car as John did the same on the opposite end. The two shared a quick glance before John straightened up, hiding his relax by edging up his voice.

He demanded everything, holding out his burlap and gun in hand. Arthur knocked down the first man to rear up at him, the rest of the passengers nothing more than deltas and betas of no spine.

John kept on, moving to each occupied seat with Arthur his forceful shadow. For two passengers, Arthur offered his brutish behavior for them to cough up coin. John was really struggling now, his knees once again becking to bend and fall before the alpha. _No, we have a job to do._

Outside of the first passenger car, John thought he could catch his breath only for his alpha to press up behind him, reminding him of his duties on this mission. But all John could think of was Arthur’s hot breath against him, deep inside him driving him mad.

Arthur’s rut was close to full blossom, the need for heavy handedness working into his shoulders and massaging at the need to mount. His vision continued to saturate in scarlet, until all he was following was John’s sweet scent. He was producing slick again, luring Arthur to finish what they’d started earlier.

He shook his dizzy head free of those thought, pushing through to the second car, demanding for the same. Arthur kept his stride in with John’s, following up with every stingy hand.

At the last car, John waved Arthur off.

“I can handle it from here, you should check on Sean.” John quickly added, needing a breather from Arthur’s choking musk.

He couldn’t hold anymore, he’d tried earlier. The pair parted ways with Arthur passing through the desolate last car. Sean was bombarded by an officer as Arthur approached the carriage car.

A shootout ensued with Sean ducking, taking cover and holding his ear while Arthur took down all three train guards on their way through the car. Arthur switched with Sean, taking his time searching through the carriage cart until the shelves were bare.

Sean called out that two men were on horses and Arthur ordered the other two alphas to fight them off. With a glance over his shoulder, he nodded to John hoping he understood that he was to duck and cover, keep a good defense by picking off stragglers.

John repeated his mate’s nod. Now was not the time to diverge in action. Charles rushed out to the open car, hiding behind a crate as more lawmen showed up. Arthur cursed at himself before rearing up, taking shot after shot over both sides of the carriage.

John couldn’t hold himself in, climbing out into the open car to follow shots at the officers in the hills. The other two held their own before Arthur told them to flee. He held his hand out for John to take, jumping down from the car only to be pushed up on Arthur’s shire.

The gang soon gave chase evading the law for as long as possible until they finally gave up. John’s chest was heaving again, his hand going for his stomach to make sure he hadn’t been nicked.

He forced out a deep sigh of relief, resting his forehead to his alpha’s shoulder. Arthur released a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, slowing his shire down for Charles and Sean to catch up.

“Whoa, whoa. That was fun, boys. Real fun. I can see why they call you the professionals of the outfit.” Sean started up yet again, receiving a full growl from John.

“Shuddup!” The omega snapped, sitting back on Arthur’s saddle with his free hand stabilizing him on the shire’s rear.

Arthur raised a brow at his mate before dishing out the shares for the gang. He handed John’s share back to him, the omega taking it and folding it into his pocket.

“At least we made some money and what did I get? Gotta be a hundred dollars here, very nice.”

“And you weren’t even invited,” Arthur said, leaning forward on his horse.

“What now?” John asked, sitting up further with a lowly grunt.

“We still need a real big take enough so we can get out of here.” Arthur directed his answer mostly over his shoulder, then to the rest of them.

“Was that a set up? Law turned up real fast,” John lowered his voice, asked Arthur intimately.

“I don’t know.” Arthur shook his head, not wanting to drag out the rush of the job any longer. His rut was already in full swing, no longer seeing the other alphas before him. He could only feel John behind him, still slick. “I don’t think so, but I’m starting to get nervous.”

“Think they followed us from Blackwater?” Charles asked, his tone steady but inquisitive.

“Maybe,” Arthur offered as his final answer. “But I think we should go at it alone for now. You know the deal, don’t be followed.”

“’Course not, boss.” Sean added before the group dispersed, leaving John and Arthur to themselves.

“That was…” Arthur didn’t know how to begin, his nose catching the gunsmoke in John’s jacket along with his slick.

John slipped off of the horse with a deep breath pursed through his lips, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to walk off the inevitable. Arthur hitched his shire to the ground with a spike then followed after John.

“Yeah,” John forced out, trying to keep his mind up and away from what was so close.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, stopping as John turned around with his hands now carded through his hair.

John nodded slowly, trying to not give Arthur any spare glances. The want was seeping down deep, making him stiff all the way through. Arthur was the same, only watching his omega pace and try to stow away his instinct.

With another turn, John’s breath hitched, his body taking a heat due in response to Arthur’s fully set rut. He cut the distance between them quickly, practically pouncing on his alpha and taking him to the ground.

The itching urge to touch all of Arthur was biting at John’s insides. His hands quickly fumbled at the alpha’s shirt, forcing it open with a pop of his buttons. Arthur’s hands went to hold John’s hips, John biting at Arthur’s neck all the way down to his shoulder before milking at his scent gland.

John was insatiable, shedding his own shirt and jacket to the ground before going for Arthur’s pants buttons.

Their breaths were hard against each other, Arthur the one muffling his moans into John’s shoulder as he was freed from his constricting jeans. John wasted no time freeing himself enough for Arthur to line up and thrust into him in one swift motion.

John moaned loudly, his arms curling around Arthur’s shoulders as his alpha thrusted up a second time. The omega gushed onto Arthur’s lap, both of their thighs now glistening with slick.

Arthur took it upon himself to rip John’s pants in half, the two legs slipping down past John’s knees as he continued to buck harshly up, jostling his omega in the process.

Neither were quiet, no longer holding back on their instinctual sounds as they fucked in the middle of the field. John toppled over Arthur, his hands gripping into the soil the harder Arthur went.

Sweat was already dripping from them, both panting and writhing against each other as if they’d never get to do it again. Arthur’s hands went to John’s plushy thighs, squeezing them harshly before making his way up to his omega’s soft ass.

“Goddamn,” Arthur huffed, bringing John down again and pulling the dirtiest sound from his throat.

John ducked his head to Arthur’s scent gland, nibbling and milking it until they both thoroughly reeked of the alpha. Both came at a bruising speed, with John elongating his back and arching up against the starry night sky.

Arthur paused to revel in his omega’s beauty, his scars shining in the pale light of the moon. He ran his hand up from their meet to pet at John’s belly then further again to grab a handful of the omega’s chest. With another thrust up, Arthur secured his knot before gushing inside of John.

“Fuck,” Arthur heaved, his rut still in full swing but manageable for the ride back to camp.

John collapsed against Arthur’s chest, heaving and kissing at the sweaty skin against his cheek. He nuzzled his face in the man’s wiry chest hair, sliding himself up to meet Arthur’s clear gaze.

He broke into a tired smile, one that Arthur immediately copied. The two started to share a chuckle with Arthur folding his arm over his head before pressing his lips to John’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's go FERAL. I love feral boys, I just love feral. 
> 
> The animal primal "fuck me now or fuck me never" mentality. 
> 
> Things are looking up from here, I hope.
> 
> *also, side note. I originally wanted Arthur to say "goddamn, I love you" with John at the end responding in his own snarky way that it took him long enough. But I chose not to do that because it felt cheap.*
> 
> *also also, this is the first time it's referred to them 'fucking', i think (?). Every other time it like beats around the bush, but no. Like Tenya with the hard chop, we coming with the hard 'f'.*
> 
> *also also also, if you're still reading this, I love you very much for sticking with me. Am crazy, but I love you :3*


	18. One and Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur decides to spend his rut alone with John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sex chapter. You think you can handle it? 
> 
> Also come eating, more like nibbling but still. 
> 
> I'm gonna say sorry but we all know that I'm not that sorry. 
> 
> times used 'cum': 4  
> times used 'clit': 3  
> times used 'slick': 10

Arthur offered to build camp nearby, just to keep John from aching anymore. That and he’d already ruined John’s pants from beyond salvageable. Halfway between camp and the train job, Arthur pulled off of the path and quickly stopped Shire.

He dismounted then turned to help John down just the same, pulling a few stung faces from his omega.

“You think you can stand for a minute?” He asked, reaching into his saddle bag to produce his tent. The red tint in Arthur’s vision was transparent enough for him to function, so long he wasn’t only breathing in John.

John nodded, his shirt stretched over his belt trying to hold his pant legs together. Arthur folded his lips in to not smile at that, knowing that John didn’t find it amusing.

Arthur cleared enough space to set up the tent poles while John leaned against Shire. He couldn’t help but return his hand to his stomach, thinking about how long he’d have to wait just to meet his pup.

They didn’t even know how much they were cherished yet. John forced away the thought, watching his alpha struggle in the moonlight with his tent until it was standing. Arthur pulled his lantern from the other side of Shire, lighting it before setting it inside.

“Go on,” Arthur said lowly, opening the flap of the tent for John to duck inside. “I’ll get a fire started.”

John felt taken back to his heat spent with Arthur, being tended to while the alpha struggled to keep himself away. He sat on the threshold of the tent, eyeing his mate’s broad back strain and break down a few low branches of the trees surrounding them.

Forcing himself to his feet, John started looking around for stones. “I’ll help.”

The two managed to cut the task in half, meeting to build the fire and strike a match so the flames could slowly flourish. They sat with Arthur pulling his satchel between them, searching for bits of dried venison and biscuits he’d found on one of his solo ventures.

He offered but John refused, his stomach not feeling anything other than the carnal itch again. After the train job, John knew that the itch wouldn’t be sated by a small bit of tension relief.

Especially with Arthur itching right next to him, this was not going to be easy to ignore. He could understand how Arthur felt almost two months ago. John reached over, offering a gentle scritch along Arthur’s back while the alpha tore at the venison.

He stared into the flames, his cerulean eyes enveloped with the bright flickers and embers flaying away. John slowly leaned in, no longer able to delay what was to come. His thighs were still damp, slick starting once again. Snaking his arm between Arthur’s legs, John’s hand outlined the alpha’s hardened length.

He breathed a moan against Arthur’s neck, shifting closer and he feeling his mate’s dick twitch behind his pants.

Arthur tilted his head in interest, following John’s beautiful noise with a raise of his brow. Unconsciously, John’s thighs parted, bombarding Arthur’s senses with his scent. His slick was forthright, still so sweet but now biting at the tip of Arthur’s nose, a hint of something sharp at the end. Like yarrow when rubbed between his fingers.

To any other alpha it was mostly a deterrent, a sign of well-timed breeding. But to Arthur, it was a full buttermilk pie, something so decadent that he wanted to feed off of it and cherish it until John was writhing for him to stop.

He could hold off on that for a bit longer, right now just enjoying the attention he was getting from his omega. How John’s hand slipped back and forth over his length while he moaned against his neck as if he was receiving the same pleasure. It was almost unfair.

Arthur’s eyes rolled with a groan with John’s grip on him, his mate’s teeth leaving red marks against his skin. His hand went for John’s knee, opening his legs further. His slick aerated heavier and Arthur spared a glance down to see it dripping from John’s well.

He took a deep breath in, the red sinking through his vision. Arthur was over John in an instant, resting his omega on his back. John’s eyes mirrored the glinting flames, his chest raising and falling like a petrified deer.

Arthur’s rut took that with excitement to follow, his eyes searching John’s for a single hint of fear but there was none. His hand on John’s knee tugged the younger outlaw’s down to his ankle.

John raised his leg by Arthur’s touch; the alpha bringing John’s ankle to rest on his broad shoulder. He hissed with Arthur slipping his hand up John’s thigh before pressing his thumbpad to his omega’s swollen clit.

“A-Arthur~,” John grizzled, his body locking as he came quickly. More slick gushed from his well, refreshing the scent in the air.

Arthur’s eyes darkened wildly, watching closely John’s hands pressing to himself, writhing and moaning from his heavy touch on the omega’s nub.

“You were holdin’ onto that, weren’t ya?” Arthur asked, leaning over John to press sloppy kisses against his stubbly chin.

John caught his breath, staring up at the starry night sky while his knee folded up to his chest. Arthur slipped his hand under John’s shirt, going for his newest and latest fixation on the omega, his plushing pectorals.

His fingers pinched at his omega’s hardened nipple, removing his other from John’s clit to undo his pants again. John keened, his eyes forcing shut with Arthur’s grip.

The alpha’s dick flopped free, tapping against John’s slickened folds and pulling a desperate plea from him. Arthur raised his brows, staring up John’s smooth neck and wanting to sink his teeth in his mate.

“Arthur, goddammit,” John’s voice was a broken huff, his body still twitching from his most recent pleasure but still craving more.

The alpha grinned devilishly, lining up and quickly sheathing himself into John’s warm depths. John threw his head back, tangling his hair with grass. His nails went deep into Arthur’s sides, scraping up to hold the alpha’s shoulders while he started an unrelenting pace.

Arthur’s breathing was short, close to bottoming out with John’s knee up to his chest. He minded his pregnant omega, driving slick out of him while their skin slapped together in an obscene noise.

John brought his head up to the crook of Arthur’s neck, licking at the oil secreting from his scent gland. He went cross-eyed with another low moan, his hand grasping at the hair on Arthur’s nape.

Arthur slipped his hand behind John’s head, tangling his fingers in his mate’s dark unkempt mane. “Bite down,” he softly coaxed into his mate’s ear. _Make us inseparable._

John’s mouth fell open with Arthur vigorously rubbing against the inside of his omegan walls, especially at what was making John’s toes curl in his boots. He bared his small, sharp canines before sinking them into the meet of Arthur’s neck and shoulder.

The alpha paused, a shiver traveling up and down his spine with his blood starting to drip onto John’s bare stomach. He returned to his pace, with John sucking at his skin and mumbling incoherently.

The coil that so easily sprung earlier was tightening again, rough and tight along John’s back, reminding him of the itch that was still unsated. Though his alpha could go all night, John wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last without sleep.

Arthur pinched at John’s nipple again, bringing forth another keening sound and a curse to follow.

“That fuckin’ hurts,” John mewled, his back arching into Arthur before the coil snapped harshly. He grabbed harder at Arthur, pulling him impossibly close with the tug in his chest wrapping around them both and squeezing.

John’s walls constricted harshly, pulsating with warmth and slick to follow before Arthur gave a final thrust. He felt the red clear from his vision with gushing inside of his omega, unleashing enough come to make John pregnant three times over.

“Atta boy, Marston,” Arthur purred, sitting up from his spent omega.

John was splayed lazily, arms over his head while he heaved. His chest bare to the fire and the night above them, his stomach and thighs were flush red and his face was wet.

Arthur stared down at his knot firmly planted in John, with every new spurt causing John to quiver in blissed out delight. He caught his breath just the same, rolling his shoulders back with a satisfied lowly roar.

John could barely keep his eyes open, swimming in pleasure and feeling overly sensitive. If Arthur touched him again right now, he was sure he’d make a mess. The alpha’s heat remained constant next to the fire, drying old sweat and causing new to form.

With a twitch of Arthur’s dick, John rolled his shoulders against the grass, close to his previous thought already.

Arthur grinned at John so comfortable with his knot. He reached out, timidly walking his fingers up from the omega’s hip to the middle of his chest and chuckling at John’s face contorting with another small moan.

Arthur took hold of his knot with a firm hand, gently deflating it while tugging it. With the last of his come firmly in John, he slid out. With disgusting intrigue, Arthur parted John’s legs enough to watch his seed mixed with slick trickle out.

He planted a kiss to the inside of John’s thigh before circling his lips against his reddened skin. John’s chest hitched on a breath, slowly forcing himself to sit up and stare at Arthur.

“Are you done bein’ nasty?” John’s voice was a low, parched rasp.

“Not quite.” Arthur pressed another kiss to his omega’s thigh, two of his fingers rubbing between John’s heated folds before pulling away.

John’s toes curled again then released with Arthur leaning forward, his large, rough fingers waiting just before his lips.

“Taste us,” Arthur said, his voice so lush with his purr while his eyes were boggling in anticipation.

John took hold of Arthur’s wrist, opening his mouth and sucking on the tips of his alpha’s fingers. He swirled his tongue between Arthur’s digits, crossing over his finger pads while sucking the tart taste of their sex from him.

Arthur’s mouth fell open in awe, a newfound glint in John’s eyes again while he taunted the alpha with his tongue curling around his middle finger. He continued to gawk, with John lowering his brow and the flames dancing over his face.

Their mixture was satisfying to John’s parch. He swallowed deeply, pulling Arthur’s fingers from his mouth before guiding them down his chest with his own small trill of interest.

“Yer a beautiful fuckin’ creature.” Arthur folded over John, catching his lips in a kiss.

The following morning, Arthur curled his arm around John’s waist, giving him a close squeeze while rubbing against his soft backside.

“Arthur,” John groaned, still plenty asleep. This was the first night in two weeks he was uninterrupted in his sleep. As much as he loved Arthur, his body was beyond spent. His joints ached while he started to feel pinched in his hips and ass. There would be new bruises turning up soon. I’m trynna sleep.”

Even though he wanted sleep, he ached between his hips again. There was too many ways to want Arthur at one time and John thought he’d never catch up.

Arthur chuckled lowly into John’s ear. “I know, but I want ya.”

Those words sunk into John, pulling free a wanton moan from his chest. Arthur’s hand dipped between John’s hips, petting at the fur there before finding the omega’s far abused clit.

He pinched teasingly at it, making John writhe awake, his head jerking slightly at the touch.

“I-I can’t come no more…I ain’t gonna make it,” John whispered, grabbing his alpha’s hand and resting it back to his stomach.

Arthur planted his lips to the side of John’s head, taking in the sweet scent of his bedhead. “Poor darlin’, he ain’t gonna make it.” Arthur slipped his hardened dick between John’s hot thighs, dragging it along the soft skin of them.

John hummed at the feeling, his well throbbing for more attention. He couldn’t even bring himself to roll over, or sit up, to even let Arthur in. “K-keep doin’ that,” John said, his voice trailing off into his pillow.

Arthur cackled lowly. “I can keep doin’ that.” He dragged his rough hand down John’s thigh, then back up to fixate on his mate’s risen nip. Arthur started down John’s neck, across his shoulder before dipping his head to lick at the tired man’s nipple.

John ran his hand through Arthur’s chestnut hair, its length probably needing a haircut soon. He smiled sleepily, prodding his tongue between his lips the harder Arthur sucked. The alpha grazed his teeth while he slid his dick harder between John’s slickened thighs.

His body started to liven, slowly lifting his leg to allow Arthur better access to his gushing folds.

“Fuck me,” John whispered, contorting his body against Arthur while he watched the alpha play with his nip.

Arthur pulled away with a trail of spit to follow then snaked an arm under John’s head, tangling his fingers through his omega’s hair. He shifted, staring into John’s tired eyes as he slowly slid in.

John’s mouth fell open with a low ‘oh’, Arthur mimicking the shape of his mate’s mouth with a softened stare. He saw John’s eyes flicker awake, the warmth of his slick buzzing down Arthur’s length.

Arthur dropped his head to John’s shoulder, teasing his teeth against John’s scent gland with a harsh scrap. His canines were itching to sink into him, wanting to mark him just as he did.

John arched into Arthur’s body, head in his alpha’s hair again, humming and bucking his hips up to accommodate his alpha’s length.

He let Arthur go forth, a strained pace. Arthur’s hand down from John’s nipple, grabbing his omega’s thigh and lifting it further. John’s scent was once again in the air, fueling Arthur’s rut to knot.

They were slower than the night before, with Arthur minding John’s weighed down body. He shouldn’t have woken him; he could’ve worked himself out but Arthur wanted more of John.

He could never get enough of John. He’d put everything on the line for this man he loved. Words were one thing, Arthur did better in actions. He’d provide more for John coming soon, for him and their future pup.

John’s eyes fluttered in lazy pleasure, his body still so raw from the night before. All he could offer to Arthur was kisses and small moans of praise, telling him Arthur was on the right track.

He wanted to remind Arthur of his love, how much he wanted to praise him but only swam and writhed in his proud mate’s scent. The air was filled with them, so concentrated and hot under the rising sun.

John could stay this way, breaking into a low sweat but still comfortable contorted against Arthur.

Arthur kept on until he came slackly halfway into John. The omega purred, feeling Arthur spill into his already throbbing walls.

He pressed a kiss to John’s cheek, pulling himself free. “I’ll let you go back t’sleep.”

John rolled over, dropping his head to Arthur’s chest and nosing in his wiry chest hair. “Okay.” He draped an arm over Arthur’s waist, giving his alpha’s backside a soft squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love lazy John, but I want teasing John soon.  
> He's so spent, between the finger fucking, the field, the campsite and then the next morning. 
> 
> Poor boah. 
> 
> Atta boah, Arthur, though.  
> Truly reminding me of 'cause I'm long, and I'm strong, and I'm down to get the friction on.'
> 
> More sexy time? Nah, I think the boys both need a break. I'm surprised John can still walk, I'm sure he's gonna be so damned bow-legged.


	19. The Shore Beckons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Arthur's rut slowly coming to an end, he starts to get back into his journaling and makes a promise to John. 
> 
> Back at camp, Arthur gets another tip, this time from Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another long one. Fifteen pages I've written it out and now I have to separate them into like three chapters. I don't know if you've noticed yet, either, but I'm literally picking and choosing which missions I want to acknowledge. (now would be a good time to add in the tags 'canon divergence'.)
> 
> Micah still isn't back at camp, he really know that he's been a bad junkyard mutt and so we might see him way later. Like a rat, I want to write him back in as ruining everything.

Arthur’s rut lasted three days. Three meticulous days of John contorting to Arthur’s body, letting him sink deep into him and knot him until the red was cleared from his vision.

The alpha barely bothered to eat, only repeating the cycle of water, sex and sleep. John was thoroughly fucked out, not even wanting to look at Arthur in such a way that came off as anything more than romantic.

That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the attention from Arthur. The grooming with his tongue along his back after another round spent, the peppering of kisses on John’s collarbone and shoulders. Even the small nudge he’d given John’s sensitive stomach before scrubbing his omega’s clit until John cried out.

It was worth the exhaustion. Arthur wasn’t trying to be an asshole, he was sparing John as much as possible. He’d managed to stave off his rut for hours rather than going until it was out of his system.

Arthur purred to ease John’s agitation when he produced slick to pacify his alpha. He offered all of the food from his satchel and even made double trips to refill the canteen. Arthur only wanted to make John feel at ease with him.

On the last evening of Arthur’s rut, John fell asleep on his alpha’s lap, his legs stretched out. His arms clutched around Arthur’s broad chest and his lips rested against his mate’s newly brandished bond mark.

The teeth marks were starting to scab over, already giving off new scent. Arthur was John’s only, he’d already been but now it was widely known. John wanted the same from him before they went back to camp, but he’d wait until Arthur swung low in his rut.

Arthur opened his journal for the first time in two months, ready to detail the most recent events. He started with a sketch he remembered from the morning, of John asleep on his chest.

His dark hair resting against Arthur’s skin while he snored softly. One hand twitching over the alpha’s pec, the other tucked in to hold his slightly pudgy stomach. The sun beamed directly through the tent flap, haloing around John’s head.

With a glance down to John adjusting his hold, Arthur put pencil to paper. Shading in his omega’s dark lashes, the conform of his body and the delicate scars on his cheek and over the bridge of his nose. Resting his chin atop John’s head, Arthur continued drawing, smudging the edges to make it look more dream-like.

He dated the drawing, declaring John’s seventh week of pregnancy to paper. John exhaled deeply against Arthur, slipping further into sleep and giving his mate a squeeze.

Arthur ran his knuckles down John’s back before bringing the journal close to write finally. From John’s heat, to him saying ‘I love you’ after a night of heavy drinking.

He wanted John to know that he meant it even if he didn’t repeat himself. That was how they came to be so content. Arthur remembered the pull in his chest stringing wire-tight, practically disappearing before humming back to life after they were done.

_‘It seems there is a shore at the end of these choppy waters. Finally, I see it. John is there, waving me home. He tells me it’s not my fault, guiding me with the breezes. Every time I am around him, and I have haven’t been away from him for longer than a day, I curse myself for ever pushing away._

_He’s been patient with me, I know. And I wonder how he’s ever gotten to be that way being as stubborn he is. I do love him, and the words are just now getting familiar on my lips. That’s what it is._

_I cannot control everything in my life and Marston told me so. Nothing of what I could’ve said was going to change whether John got lost or not. The man has a shotty sense of direction anyways._

_But now we’re both facing the sun. I feel the easiest by his side. I’m sure he knows that too._

_There is an end in sight, I know it. With John and I stepping away from this life and giving all our efforts to the next. To raise our pups without the thought of bad happening.’_

Arthur rested his lips to the crown of John’s head, shutting his journal and combing his fingers through his mate’s brunet hair. John sighed dreamily, his lips twitching against Arthur’s skin and the alpha smiled. _I will keep you both safe, you are my everything._

He felt a twinge of guilt in his heart, promising that to John as he slept. Eliza wasn’t so lucky, and for that she and their son perished. Arthur only knew how to bottle his guilt, never to learn from his mistakes. But now he would. He wouldn’t let no worse into his and John’s life if he had any fight in the end.

Arthur closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, ducking his head to John’s shoulder with a solemn prayer to Eliza. She was the mother of his first pup, she deserved much more than he could’ve given her at the time. He muttered his apologies to her, only squeezing Marston harder.

_Never again._

“I will keep you safe, John. You and our pup,” Arthur outwardly promised, his lips grazing John’s ear. “I do love ya. I truly do. And if I ever get a better chance t’prove it to you, I will.”

Returning to camp, Arthur helped John back to the nest to rest then went to find Charles.

“How’d you get on?” Arthur asked, rolling his shoulders back. He felt a refreshment go through his body, the tension in his back evaporating with his rut. He felt re-energized, ready to carry heavy loads and go through chores like a damn cakewalk.

“Good, and you? I saw that you were a bit on edge a few days back,” Charles spoke easily, calmly as was his demeanor. “You and Marston.”

Arthur groaned, waving away the statement. “Just piss poor timin’. I started my rut not long after y’all left.”

The collected alpha pursed his bottom lip out, his arms remaining crossed before his chest. “And you spent it with John. At least you two are done being on the out and outs.”

Arthur couldn’t help a chuckle at that. “Yeah, I guess we are.” He wanted so badly to tell someone else about John carrying his pup, but his mate told him it was too early. It was better for him to just sit back and watch with knowing pride until John couldn’t hide the swell of his belly anymore.

Then they’d say something.

Charles reached a hand out to pat his friend’s shoulder. “That’s good for you, Arthur. You two just work.” He quickly retracted his hand and returned it in his cross. “I got a lead on something in Valentine. You wanna join me?”

Arthur nodded. “Sure. We need all the money we can get.”

Charles unfurled his arms and rested them in his pockets. “That’s the plan. Until we can get back to Blackwater and collect.”

“I’m here to tell ya, we try to collect that money any time soon, it’ll come with a noose.” Arthur exhaled, the frustration coming with that statement starting to eat away at his ease.

“I knew you’d say that,” Charles said, stepping back. “You meet me in Valentine in an hour. Bring John with you.”

Arthur opened his mouth with a thought of arguing. Charles raised a brow at his alpha friend and stopped in his retreat. “Unless, you don’t want him to go.”

“He’s just tired. I might’a worn him out.” Arthur was never one to be embarrassed, but his cheeks pinched pink at the statement. Pride or not, he was sure that John was sick of his dick right now.

Charles chuckled outwardly at that, not holding back the amusement in his grin. “Alright then, we can take…”

Arthur watched his friend’s face go from amused to annoyed in a matter of seconds. Without John, the options were limited. Arthur knew that if they went with Sean, he’d be stringing the youngling by his feet and dragging him behind his horse.

He was damn sick of his mouth and Micah’s, and he hadn’t even seen the blonde in a matter of weeks. It was still too short of time. And Bill, a chatterbox like the other two.

“Really limited our choices, huh?” Arthur spared a dry laugh at Charles before snapping his fingers. “Lenny. He’s a smart feller. And he won’t yap our ears off.”

Charles nodded at that. “I’ll see you two in Valentine then.” He turned on his heels and started off to his horse, Taima.

Arthur gave a final nod to the end of the conversation then started back to his tent, only to be stopped by Mister Strauss.

“Mr. Morgan, I’ve been needing your help with some of my loaners,” the delta Strauss began.

“I dunno if I’m the man for the job, Strauss. You should try Bill, I’m sure he’d be happy t’help.” Arthur whistled over to his brother, then nodded for Leopold to go. “Go on now. Bill, you finally get t’be a big dog!” He called over to the other alpha before slipping into his tent to see John curled up against his empty bedroll.

He’d have to get him a cot soon, the ground couldn’t be good for his back. Especially now.

“Hey darlin’,” Arthur felt the term was starting to grow on his lips, he was sure it caught John by surprise. “I’m headin’ into town with Charles. We’ll be back soon.” He knelt to press his lips to his mate’s temple.

John lazily reached out, grabbing at Arthur’s shirt and rubbing it between his fingers. “You be safe.”

“You ever met me? I’m always safe,” Arthur disguised his cheeky grin in John’s dirty hair. He could breathe in those mussed locks and never tire of the scent.

John raised his brows, eyelids still fighting to open. He hummed, turning on his side. “ _You be safe_.” He repeated with an emphasis. “I am not raising this pup without you.”

“You won’t ever have to.” Arthur sat down, his arm crossing over John’s body while he stared down at his exhausted omega. He ran his thumb over John’s scarred lips then traced up his stitched-up scratches. “Get yer rest. I’ll return.”

He leaned in, resting his forehead to John’s while he breathed in his scent. John tilted his head up, nudging his nose to Arthur’s before taking hold of his hand on his cheek.

John rested his lips to Arthur’s wrist then let go with a low yawn. Arthur excused himself with a soft pat to John’s side then boarded Shire to ride into town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, one day soon, John will unironically call Arthur 'sunshine'. It's happening. I'm putting it into motion now. John is Darling/or John Dear (like John Deere lol) and Arthur will be Sunshine or maybe....Excalibur....no, you know what, never mind.


	20. The Protection Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, Charles and Lenny have themselves some boyish talk on the mission and John called forth by Dutch. 
> 
> Also, Hosea, who already knows too much, learns more truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy, lads doing locker room talk. Guy talk, amirite? Eight pages down, like seven more to go and they are either gonna be a dramatic doozy or discombobulated mess.

On the outskirts of town, Charles waited on Taima by the train tracks. Arthur pulled back on Shire’s rein and came to a halt before his alpha friend. Lenny followed close behind, eager but quiet to his elders. Arthur appreciated that.

“So, where we headin’?” Arthur adjusted his hat on his head with a tug.

“There’s a herd of sheep coming down to auction from Emerald Ranch. Heard it on my way back that the owner’s trying to stamp out every farm from here to Annesburg.” Charles turned Taima to the rock formations.

“Yeah, I know that place.” Arthur led Shire to do the same, spurring his horse’s sides to start on the path.

The three rode over the hill with Lenny to trail behind. “Hey Arthur, why ain’t John with us?”

“He’s…” Arthur thought of how to explain his mate’s exhaustion, but he couldn’t find an excuse besides him. “exhausted.”

“Arthur wore him out,” Charles added with a wry smirk. “Poor omega.”

Lenny hid a snicker, hiding his smile behind his hand. Arthur still glared over his shoulder to the youngling, making Lenny button up. His cheeks blushed hard though his chest was puffed.

Of course he wore out his omega and now the other alphas knew. If Arthur looked over to Charles now, he was sure that he’d duck his head as well. It gave him a new rush.

“We’ll head up to the ridge up there…get a proper view.” Charles changed the subject quickly, pulling free a sight rifle from his horse and tossing it over to Arthur.

He held his hand out and caught it then strapped it over his shoulder. Following Charles’s lead up the side of the mountain, Arthur ordered Lenny to stay down on the cliff. The two alphas quickly dismounted from their horses, making way to the edge of the cliff and kneeling to get a better view.

Arthur pulled the gun up to his shoulder, peeking through the sight for the three ranchers on the path below.

“That’s them, to your left,” Charles said, looking through his binoculars and tipping Arthur’s gun the same way.

In the cross sight was the three men on horses, following behind a herd of sheep. “What now?” Arthur asked, adjusting his shoulders and the sight.

“Put a shot near them, they’ll flee,” Charles collected tone felt all-knowing in the moment.

Back at camp, John was woken up by Dutch’s voice calling and Abigail ducking her head into his tent.

“You better get up, Dutch is lookin’ for you,” Abigail harshly whispered with John struggling to open his eyes fully.

“Damn.” He groaned with a shift upright, rubbing his eyes with his fists before attempting to manage his now unruly hair thanks to Arthur.

John pushed himself up to his feet, giving his stomach a once over before muscling down the nausea that followed.

“Ooh boy, that don’t look good,” Abigail said, stepping into the tent but reeling from John. “Ya look green.”

John tried to growl, or grunt, anything of annoyance but every shift of his throat would further taunt the creeping gurgle of his stomach. He clamped his hand over his mouth, holding back the acid that continued to slither up his throat only to hightail out of the tent and around the back of camp.

He managed to get far enough away from the other camp members, right around the scout campfire, before he finally emptied his stomach of dried venison and canned peaches. Looking back now, it was a bad combination, but with it coming up was worse.

“John, you alright?” Abigail was close behind her friend, with John holding onto a nearby tree for leverage.

With his stomach clear, John heaved in relief, spit drooling from his chin while his nose twitched in disgust.

“Here.” His friend reached out with a rag, letting John wipe his mouth then followed with a half-empty canteen of water.

He tilted the canteen back, letting the water drizzle into his mouth and over his cheeks. It was warm, but it was delicious to John.

“Easy,” Abigail soothed, reaching out to rub her friend’s shoulder. “I’m guessin’ you didn’t sleep well.”

John pressed his hand to his lower back with a stretch, then folded his shoulder forward with a low click. “Goddamn Arthur. Couldn’t sleep for long.”

Abigail stifled a giggle, now patting John’s shoulder before reaching for his stomach. “That pup’s gonna give you a run soon enough.”

John smiled with a huff, full of grit, before handing back Abigail’s canteen. He looked over his small friend’s head, seeing Dutch and Hosea making their way over to him. “Shit.”

He cleaned up his mouth with his sleeve then pushed away from the tree. “Dutch.”

“Son, where have you been?” Dutch began with Hosea stopping beside him.

“Excuse me,” Abigail ducked her head and quickly left between the three men. John glared after her, his only lifeline now leaving.

“I-uh-we, me…” John’s thoughts were not coherent, his mind was still mulling in sleep.

“Can’t you see the boy’s tired, Dutch?” Hosea quickly cut in, taking hold of John’s shoulder and gently jostling him.

“Tired? I haven’t seen him do much,” Dutch said, still unimpressed. His brows were a lazy furrow, casting a shadow over his dark eyes. “I mean, besides Arthur.”

John opened his mouth, wanting to retort but not having an answer. That was all he’d done in the last three days and his only excuse was Arthur’s rut.

Hosea chuckled lightly at him, then shook his head. “That’s besides the point. John, come into town with us.”

“What for?” John asked, breaking eye contact with Dutch to look at Hosea.

“Leopold, the old croon, has been trying to make right with some debters. He wanted us to join him in the saloon for a talk.”

“And since you ain’t pullin’ your weight except on your back, we’re draggin’ you along for the business side of things.”

John wanted to sneer the corner of his mouth up, flash his small canines at Dutch but knew it would always be a bad idea. Unless he wanted to be publicly wrung out and forced on his neck.

“You don’t have to be so brash with the boy,” Hosea quickly added, turning to his superior with a glare.

“Fine,” he said, shaking his head with Hosea pulling his arm away. “I’ll go.”

“Marston is thick-skinned, it ain’t like I’m getting to him. It’s all in good fun, right, son?” Dutch quickly grinned, his arm reaching out to rest on John’s shoulders.

His body broke into an itch, Dutch’s scent of clean crushed velvet and fine scotch was combatting against the scent Arthur willfully dug into him, bred into him now. John forced a hand to Dutch’s side with a nervous laugh to follow.

“’Course, Dutch,” he said, bowing away from his leader and turning up his nose at his scent. It was already bad enough that Hosea touched him, but another alpha? John’s body was now rigid, practically bathed in the absolute wrong scent.

John folded a hand over his stomach, giving it a soothing rub. “Let me go get my jacket,” he said, pointing over his shoulder to his tent.

Dutch raised a tentative brow after the omega, then nodded for Hosea to keep an eye on him.

John ducked into his tent, grabbing his jacket and belt before turning around to his elder beta. Hosea leaned in, giving him a deep inhale then offering short sniffs over John’s shoulders.

“Are you alright, John?” Hosea finally asked as John shrugged on his jacket. At least that still smelled like Arthur, it put him at ease once again.

“’Course,” John said, realizing Hosea’s hand reaching to touch his stomach. He instinctively reeled back, baring his teeth with a quick snarl, his eyes going wildly dark as he snapped.

Hosea was unfazed, just standing still as a smirk started on his lips. He took in the omega’s sudden protective manner with a low shake of his head, seeing John clearly jolted by the minute action.

John’s teeth were borne, his lips twitching as his mouth was open and emanating a low growl. His wild hair hung in his face while his eyes were dark pools of pure instinct. That of a wild dog protecting a hambone.

With a search of Hosea’s face, John registered his mistake. He slowly recollected himself, standing upright and closing his mouth. “Please don’t tell Dutch.”

It wasn’t a problem if Dutch knew personally, but once Dutch knew so did the whole camp. John didn’t want that. He wanted to stay as normal as possible until the last possible second.

“Tell Dutch what?” Hosea’s grin was in full watt now, folding his hand back into his pocket.

John was never one to beg but this was something he didn’t want to get out. “Hosea, please. I’m serious.”

“And I am, too.” Hosea gave John another sniff. “Son, it’s not my business. But you can’t keep something like that hidden for long.”

“Hosea, John! Let’s ride!” Dutch called from his horse, the faithful Count.

“Best to not keep him waiting,” Hosea said, ducking back out of the tent, leaving John to swear by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE FERAL JOHN. PROTECTIVE FERAL JOHN.
> 
> HIM AND ARTHUR, FERAL BOIS TOGETHER, SNARLING AND SNAPPING AT EVERYONE.


	21. The Sheep and the Goats and the Wolves that Feast Upon Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch, Hosea and John meet with Strauss in Valentine as Arthur and Lenny return from shepherding. 
> 
> Also, the gang gets to meet Leviticus Cornwall, real and up close, for the first time. And hopefully the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words. This is alone my favorite mission. Like, you remember that look that Arthur and John shared? Mmph! 
> 
> That alone was the inspiration for this story. Anyways, I hope I did it justice.

In Valentine, John sat at the foot of the table with Hosea to his left and Leopold to his right. He could smell remnant of Arthur on the delta, bleaching out against the man’s tweed.

He couldn’t stop looking over at Hosea, however, as Dutch and Strauss spoke. John didn’t know what else he wanted to say to the beta, but he was sure it was more pleas. Maybe he wanted to let him know, it was hard to sort himself out while his hand cradled his pudge under the table.

With a rousing muttering outside of the saloon, along with laughter, John glanced through the window. If he had a tail, it’d be furiously wagging, giving way to the rush of excitement at the sight of Arthur.

He wavered the feeling, clearing his throat and returning to clasp the glass of alcohol before him on the table.

Hosea shot him a look, then down at the glass and up again. John shook his head subtly, only bringing the glass to his nose to sniff.

The pungent smell was off-putting enough. Smelled nothing like he thought Arthur did. He was more oaky, richer like dark candy syrup. What was in the glass was sharp and biting, nothing more than sun-batch grain alcohol.

Disgusted, John set the glass back down then slid it over to Hosea.

“You not drinking, John?” Dutch spoke directly, a break in his conversation with Strauss.

John inwardly flinched, cursing to himself again before shaking his head at his leader. “Nah, I’m not feelin’ it.”

“You sure you’re alright?” Dutch asked, leaning forward with his arm pressed on the table.

John hid a gulp, a new sweat breaking out behind his neck. He opened his mouth to speak but the pounding steps into the saloon stopped him and John was immediately saved by Arthur. He exhaled, comforted by his alpha making his way over.

“Dutch, Leopold, Hosea,” Arthur greeted with Charles close behind him.

The two let Lenny go back to camp after wrangling the sheep, told him to meet them later to collect.

Arthur scanned the table before stopping at John, lingering a bit long as if he hadn’t seen the man in years. John flashed a quick smile then let it fall as Dutch cleared his throat.

“Where have you been?” Dutch turned his interrogating nature to Arthur, sitting back in his chair.

“Workin’,” Arthur started with his hand motioning to his alpha friend beside him. “Charles’s thing.”

“Good, and?” Dutch led with another question, not sated by the open-endedness of his past questions. Hosea turned over to John with a purse of his lips, shaking his head before shifting his glass away as well.

“We’re just waiting to get some pay on some sheep,” Arthur added with a certain nod.

“Well, as long as you’re all here. John, Leopold, why don’t you two and Charles go make sure there ain’t no funny business.”

The foreign delta pushed himself to his feet, his conversation with Dutch fully at an end. “Of course.”

John looked to Hosea, who nodded assuredly. He stood up, his chair scraping after him and his cradling hand now shoved into his pocket.

With a tap to the table, John followed after Charles and Leopold. “Gentlemen.”

Arthur’s eyes followed his omega out of the saloon, even as his leader offered him a drink. “Sure.”

He took Leopold’s chair, sitting down with a heavy exhale. Dutch waved his hand to the barkeep for more, then reached to slide John’s glass to Arthur.

“John didn’t finish his drink,” Dutch said passively before sitting forward in his chair. “Nothing like talking to old Strauss to make you want to blow your own brains out. I should’ve left him where I found him all those years ago.”

Hosea spared a dry chuckled at Dutch. “That old bastard sure can talk about nothing and everything at the same time. I don’t think I listened to a word he said, to be honest.”

The barkeep made his way over to the table with a new bottle of dark alcohol. Dutch reached over to grab hold of Hosea’s forearm with a grin.

“Bookish little Austrian fresh off the boat, his eyes out on stalks.” He refilled his glass then went to pour Hosea more, but the beta refused with his hand over the glass. Dutch shrugged, turning to Arthur next and refreshing the glass he’d given him from Marston.

“Well, I guess the Dutch van der Linde finishing school has some strange graduates.” Arthur offered to the conversation before pulling the glass up to take a deep pull.

“That it does,” Hosea added, sitting back in his seat.

The two alphas shared a cheer to things looking up before tapping their glasses to the table and drinking them back.

John followed Leopold and Charles to the auction field, keeping himself directly in his alpha friend’s eyesight.

“So, you and Arthur stole some sheep?” he asked, his voice lowered to a whisper. “What made you wanna do that?”

Charles spared a grin to his friend. “Seemed like some easy money. So far, so good.”

The three crossed the back path to the gates. Leopold stopped first, only for John to double take over his shoulder.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Leopold only nodded to the men standing guard at the gate on their horses, just beside the men that took in the stolen sheep.

“You know them fellers?” John leaned into Leopold’s icy cold stare.

“Leviticus Cornwall,” Leopold offered, his voice above a ghostly whisper.

“Gentlemen, can we help you?” One of the guards on horses addressed the three huddled just beyond the auction barn.

Charles attempted to hide his face as one of the auctioneers pointed at him. “That’s him. That’s the man that brought in them sheep.”

“Oh god,” Charles hissed lowly.

“Shit,” John hissed.

The second guard whistled and three more men surrounded the area, closing off the two open plans for escape. John turned to Charles with his heart slowly sinking.

“You stole sheep from Leviticus Cornwall?” John asked lowly, his stomach fully in knots. How badly he wanted to soothe himself while more acid started to creep up his throat.

“I guess so.” Charles was still collected even as two of the guards pointed guns. His hands slowly rose above his head and John followed his lead with another low swear.

Leopold, however, was not so compliant. As the men closed in, taking Charles by the neck first, the delta shoved John into another guard and scurried off in the opposite direction. The first guard whistled for a couple of his men after Strauss, who didn’t get far and was dragged back by his collar.

An arm folded over John’s throat, holding him rigidly to the guard’s body. A sigma. He tried to not squirm, though the press on his throat was only egging on his nausea.

The guard produced a knife, holding it to his temple and gritting through his teeth for John to stay still. John looked over the sigma’s elbow to Charles giving no resistance to the alpha guard holding him.

“Now, where’s Dutch Van Der Linde?” The first guard on his horse, a slender beta in a three-piece suit and bowler hat, asked. He pointed his gun to the cowardly delta now held by two men.

John and Charles remained silent, button-lipped, about where Dutch was. Even though inside John was the riling instinct to flee for the sake of his pup. He grit his teeth together to stifle that scream inside him and the unwanted bile slowly pulling up his throat.

“In the saloon,” Strauss quickly forfeited, dropping his head in defeat. Both Charles and John hissed lowly, chastising the delta for going belly up. The man holding John quickly jabbed him in the face for him to shut up, only bringing the omega to growl.

The first guard nodded in the direction of the saloon. “Let’s go.”

The men holding Charles and John pushed forward, forcing them to walk to the front of the saloon. Leopold was dragged after them, purposefully going through the puddles and mud. If John wasn’t in a compromised position, he’d laugh at the weaselly delta.

The alpha man Cornwall roared, stopping before the saloon with his beta guard behind him. “Van der Linde! Get out here.”

“What the hell,” Dutch began, standing at the head of the table.

The three men turned towards the window at the call. Arthur and Hosea shifted out of their seats, with Arthur taking cover before the window. He glanced out at the men on horses, the guards posted with guns drawn and pointed at the saloon.

Hosea took post at the back wall, behind Arthur, drawing his own gun. Arthur gave him a gentle hand for him to lower his weapon.

“Van Der Linde! You don’t know me, but you keep robbing me.” The caller was a robust older man, dressed in a three-piece suit and surrounded by his guards. “My name is Leviticus Cornwall. I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you.”

Arthur continued to stare out of the window, taking in the scene before a couple of men pushed forward Charles and John. The alpha reared up, his shoulders bundling tightly as he reached for his gun on his hip.

Dutch caught his son’s hand before he drew, easing him to take a deep breath. “He’s gonna be alright, son.”

Hosea was next in his assurance that John wouldn’t be harmed, sharing a look to Dutch.

“Get out here, before I have these men killed!” Cornwall demanded.

John bit back a gag as the sigma man holding him stopped before the saloon. He looked directly through the window to see Arthur holding back blazes beyond his cerulean stare. Charles was compliant by his side, showing no emotion. John lengthened his neck, muscling down the nausea in his throat.

“What do you think?” Hosea asked, stepping forward from behind his alpha mentee.

Arthur tried to sway the forming lump in his throat, his mind suddenly delving deep into instinct to protect. He wanted to burst through the window and attack at the men like a wild bear, but he pushed through the depraved manner and snapped his fingers for an answer. “You start spinning the yarn…and when the time is right, I’ll make my move.”

Cornwall yelled beyond the window, but Arthur’s vision was tunneling the more he stared at his mate.

“Hosea, you go out the back.” Dutch ordered before grabbing the liquor bottle from the table.

Hosea gave Arthur’s stiff shoulder a pat, “Deep breaths, son.” Then he did as he was told, ducking out the back of the saloon.

Dutch tilted the bottle to his lips, taking a deep swig before setting it back to the table. “You behind me, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded, his eyes never leaving the window pane. He wanted a clear view of John, if they touched a stray hair on his head…

“Arthur,” Dutch barked lowly, still not pulling the alpha outlaw away enough to make way to the entrance.

His mind was bucking wildly, going red and white with frustration and concentrated anger. So many immediate threats to his omega, his mate. Arthur tried to pull through himself to focus, but he was honed in on John.

“Now get out here, now!” Cornwall screeched, his voice cracking at top octave.

The sigma guard holding John kicked out his knee, forcing him to kneel as another guard pointed the gun in his face. The knife was hovering around John’s eye and he curled his hands around the man’s arm to keep him from choking him.

The man holding Charles drew his gun, pressed it to the alpha’s temple. Arthur quickly tore himself away from the window, following Dutch out of the door.

“Please, gentlemen, this is a terrible mistake.” Dutch exited to the porch, holding his hands out to show his compliance. “This is a case of mistaken identity.”

Following Dutch’s motion, Arthur put his hands up though his eyes were narrowed. Arthur stepped out from the shadow, coming face to face with John. He held his chin high, staring down his alpha.

He couldn’t withhold himself for long. Arthur’s shoulders began to shake with deeply embedded agitation, he tried to fight off his mouth from falling open and snarling at the lot of men before him.

John tried to remain still against the sigma, not wanting his eye to be stabbed out while staying trained on Arthur. The alpha noticed the harsh scrape under John’s eye, fresh and reddish-purple. He couldn’t hold himself back for much longer.

Arthur lowered his brows, his vision finally tunneling on John with one objective. _Protect him._ _Protect them._

“What is worse than admonishing a man for the sins of another?” Dutch did as promised, lulling most of the other men to boredom.

Arthur took a deep breath in and out before quickly drawing his gun. With a blink, he shot the sigma from John and the other guard holding Charles. John quickly fell forward, his hands now bracing the dirt path.

The rest of the guards dispersed to cover, aiming wildly at Arthur and Dutch. Arthur ran for John, scooping him up and pressing him behind a nearby cart. He was frantic in his touching of John, assessing his shoulders and arms before touching his stomach and cheek at the same time.

“You alright?” Arthur breathed heavily, his vision hazy and hyper-focused.

John tried to piece together Arthur’s demeanor, only to rest his hand on top of both of his alpha’s. “We’re alright. Arthur…”

The alpha was wild in his stare, his shoulders jacked up as the shootout ensued behind him. “You get to my horse, across town, and you get back to camp.” His thumb brushed against John’s cheek, lining down the two scars decorating his face. “When I give the signal, you go.”

“Arthur!” Dutch called out for his righthand, holding off the guards with a few shots from his double pistols. Charles joined the fight as well, pumping his shotgun both up and down the street.

“I’m comin’!” Arthur shouted, standing quickly to fend off a few guards coming from the south side.

“I ain’t leavin’ you,” John stood after him, only to be tugged back down as more gunfire broke out.

“We’re goin’ round!” Dutch impatiently yelled, forcing the wagon forward as moving cover.

Arthur growled, hoisting John onto the wagon before pushing it along with Charles. “You stay put, John.”

“I ain’t dead, let me help!” John brandished his gun, started taking shots at officers from the upper balconies. Hosea rushed behind the group, sliding onto the wagon before wielding his pistol and weeding out the numbers.

Arthur pushed in the back, maintaining one hand on the wagon and the other firing blindly at guards coming from the decks. Strauss scurried close behind, limping. The alpha smelled the blood in the air, turning to the feeble delta and sitting him on the wagon as well.

The numbers soon dwindled around the second half of town, leaving the three alphas to hurry the wagon along. John waited until the wagon came to a full stop before climbing from the wagon, him and Hosea taking one of Strauss’s arms and helping him to the horses.

Arthur refused to put his gun back until John and Leopold made it to safety. Back turned to the group, he stepped in tandem, his eyes scanning the deadened town for any stragglers.

“Arthur, come on.” Dutch whistled to which Arthur quickly becked.

John pushed Leopold onto Charles’s horse with Hosea’s aid, then climbed onto Old Boy. Arthur felt rushed, his agitation only growing until he caught whiff of John. He released a shaky breath, reaching to pat at his omega’s thigh.

“Yer a stubborn man,” Arthur grit lowly, staring up at John.

“I know,” John lowly added, grabbing hold of Old Boy’s reins.

“Arthur, Charles, you two make sure nobody’s following us. We’ll get back to camp, we’re gonna gather the troops and get ‘em to start packing up.” Dutch pointed at his two alphas then waved Hosea off with Leopold. He turned to John, his eyes scanning over his omega son then back at the other two. 

“Sure,” Arthur said, patting Old Boy on his hind, “we can’t stick around after this.”

Dutch quickly boarded the Count. “Let’s go!”

John looked down at Arthur, still rigid and coming down from his instincts running high.

“Go on, now,” Arthur motioned coolly, not able to keep contact with John. If he did, he’d have to acknowledge the rampant feelings he now had in the aftermath. The last thing he needed now was John thinking he’d never sweated his rut.

John gave him a nod, then clicked his tongue for Old Boy to follow after Dutch and the Count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You geld one snake, three more will pop up in its place. Not actually, but Leopold is just a yellow-bellied bastard that I'm sure he would've done this. You can't convince me otherwise. 
> 
> also, ARE WE READY FOR SOME ANGST????


	22. A Strange New Step in Horseshoe Overlook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directly after the incident in Valentine, Arthur is egged on by a couple of the members. 
> 
> Finally, John and Arthur must out a secret for the good of their future. 
> 
> Also, Arthur, John and Abigail make a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can have a little bit of feral angst. As a treat.
> 
> also, Hosea is best Father, Mother and mentor. Change my mind.

John scrambled off of his horse just out of Valentine, along the trees. He managed to round Old Boy before he swung around a tree trunk and emptied his stomach again. Acid bubbled from his mouth, dribbling to the ground while John kept a hand on his side.

“Damn,” John muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t let the situation sink in until it was over, the arm around his neck holding back so much that John wanted to let go.

He released a few hitching breaths, his body now catching onto Arthur’s long-gone anxiety. And John did nothing. With another low swear, he stood up, bracing both hands to the tree now.

How could he not do anything? He just froze, he let Arthur take hold of him and then he was warding off enemies. John’s focus was only on Arthur, not the whole gang. If Dutch saw it, registered it, he knew he’d never hear the end of it.

And Arthur.

Arthur looked wild, frantic and unregistrable. His pupils were reduced to pinholes, John saw. And his smell, so ramped up with gunfire and sweat. Him grabbing John was reckless and then pinning between his arms was not an Arthur he’d noticed before.

John bundled his fists, he wanted to smack that alpha for being so careless. Even if John was thankful for him in the same exact moment, if Arthur got hurt, John would’ve never forgiven himself.

Arthur and Charles split halfway out of the East of Valentine, with promise that they’d meet back up at camp. Arthur pulled Shire to trot, letting his body ease down from the agitation he evaded. The gunsmoke was buried in his clothes, refusing to let his alpha instinct come down.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the come down, it would be jarring. Arthur’s vision still tunneled, his skin damp with his own sweat. Patting his body, he searched for any gunshots. The adrenaline in him would never let him feel the pain until it was too late.

Thankfully, there was nothing to be concerned about. Except John. Even with replaying what just happened in his head, John was his only focus. His stubborn mate, god, he now wanted to rage at him.

He was relieved that John stayed by his side, because if he left and something bad happened to him then, Arthur would never forgive himself. He refused to let his thoughts go that dark, but if something happened to John…Arthur couldn’t live with himself.

That wouldn’t happen. But John staying was just as bad as him leaving. His instinct and heart raged war inside of him, fighting both for and against one another in the same motion. Arthur folded over Shire, hiding his face in the horse’s mane before letting free a deeply edged roar.

Back at camp, John started to stuff Arthur’s clothes into his chest then rolled up their bedspread. Arthur was quick to return, pulling the tent flap back with a flourish. _John_.

He went for his omega, grabbed him and held him close. No purring, just a hearty hug that slowly brought Arthur’s jacked-up nerves down. John’s hands folded in, his fingers intimately gripping at Arthur’s shirt. He nuzzled his face into Arthur, his breath hitching again.

“Yer a stupid, stubborn man, Marston,” Arthur’s voice held a sharp tone, edged with a soft exhale.

“Yer a reckless, dumb brute, Arthur,” John retorted, his voice barely above a whisper. His gripped a bit tighter at Arthur’s shirt. “I ain’t useless. I’m an outlaw first, an omega second.”

“Shut up.” Arthur started, squeezing John tighter. “Yer a father first, an outlaw second.”

John slowly curled his arms around Arthur’s waist, pulling his face free from the alpha’s chest. “We need to make some changes. I ain’t raising no pup on the run.”

Arthur craned his neck, looking at John now with his brow deeply furrowed. “I know.”

“Do you?” John pushed away. This was a long time coming, it was necessary to express the pit in John’s stomach. It was just something that needed to be said. It was either now or nine months from now, leaving him and Arthur to go along with whatever Dutch said until then. “Arthur, I am _not_ raising our pup on the run. We fix ourselves now or we’re never getting out. It’s our family, I know, but Dutch ain’t just some drunk uncle.”

Arthur was silent, watching John start to pace while both hands were on his stomach now. John withheld a couple of gags, even though he hadn’t eaten anything all morning.

“What’re you sayin, John?” Arthur asked, unsure of what John wanted him to do. This was all their life was, there was no stopping now. What would be the end of it? What would stop them from falling back into it?

John’s hands were in his hair, pulling back his locks and carding his fingers together in the process. “I say we talk to Dutch. Hosea already knows.” He didn’t want to explain his snap at the beta. “Maybe if we tell ‘im, we can figure somethin’ out.”

Arthur watched John pace faster, his breath picking up while he tried to relax his shoulders. The irritation started to whip thick in the air, their bond tangling around John like a wild spool. He didn’t know how to help, if he should speak. All he wanted to do was purr to ease John down, but he just let his mate pace and worry until he felt his right to speak.

For being an alpha, Arthur was pretty whipped into submission by John. It was hard to keep his anger up, frustrated at the man that was trying to be so patient with him. They were out of their elements.

“We can figure this out,” Arthur said, stepping in his omega’s pace and making him slow. “Stop worryin’ yer pretty little head about it.”

Even if John was trying to be hard, he felt he’d lost his sharp wits. All he could think of was the pup and Arthur. His priorities were shifting inward, he no longer wanted a wild pack of misfits. All this did was solidify that he wanted roots. _No more running._

“We’re getting’ too damn old for this,” John muttered between the alpha’s pectorals.

Arthur spared a dry chuckle, his arms once again curling around his mate’s shoulders. Broad, but smaller, just the right size. “What’chu mean? I’m in my prime.”

“Didn’t ya hear Sean, we’re on the decline.” John bobbed his head up, resting his chin to Arthur’s chest.

“Our pup says different.” Arthur’s hand snaked back from John’s waist to fold against his stomach. “Ain’t that right…I was thinking Joseph?”

John sneered at the thought. “Let’s get further through the year before we start pickin’ names.”

“Why?” Arthur asked, his face scrunching up in bewilderment. He slowly took a knee and pressed his cheek to John’s stomach, leaving John to rest his arms on Arthur’s shoulders. “Yer a fighter in there, ain’t ya? Gonna grow up big and strong like yer daddy and pa.”

John smirked at that. He could get used to being called pa. He only knew omegas, male or female, called mother or mom. Or he’d heard some of the girls talk about it. Maybe he’d seen it in town though he was heavy in that doubt. John wasn’t sure if he could call himself that, whether it’d fit him as well as Arthur’s title would.

“What if they’re omega, they gonna be big and strong?” As if that were the complete opposite of an alpha, as if an omega was meant to be the feeble and weakened type only sated by being an alpha prize trophy. He raised a brow down at Arthur, who looked up to him with bright, eager eyes.

“I already said they’d be like their pa, didn’t I? If they’re omega, that just makes ‘em bigger and stronger.” Arthur turned back to John’s stomach. “And if you ever meet an alpha, I’ll string ‘im up if he looks at you funny.”

John felt his mind chugging double time between Arthur’s sweet words and the dreadful talk they absolutely had to have with Dutch. And Miss Grimshaw. And of course, Hosea. Arthur was an anchor for John, but Hosea was a steady lifeline.

“Arthur, can we start one step at a time, please?” John wanted to stay on track. He didn’t know how to say it to their leader but it was going to come out today. Or tomorrow. But John had to make that his focus. He grabbed his alpha’s cheeks, smushing them together with a small jostle of his face. “One day at a time. Today, we’re movin’ camp. Tomorrow, we’re telling Dutch.”

Arthur tried to smile in John’s hold but the squish of his cheeks made it hard. “You got it, boss.”

“Now go on. You know Dutch needs to see you.” John carefully let go of Arthur’s face, pushed the alpha from him and waved him off.

Arthur quickened out of the tent, with John returning to his previous task of loading up their belongings and shoving them out. He stopped just outside of the ten, sitting down on Arthur’s dresser chest and watching the alpha approach Dutch’s tent.

Inside, open to the whole camp, was Hosea arguing with his leader. More so, companion, and the squabble was more of a lover’s quarrel. Arthur stopped short of the plank deck, letting Hosea express his concern for moving further east until they finally reached Paris.

“Oh that’d be nice, join the Commune?” Dutch’s tone was lackadaisical, sitting on his cot while he eyed his map before him. “We stop when we find someplace sensible, shake them that’s following us and lie low.”

“This is lying low?” Hosea motioned to the rest of the camp already torn down with Arthur and John’s tent the last to follow. They were indeed dragging their feet now by the eyes of camp. “We’ve turned into a bunch of killers, I mean it. How’re we supposed to get straight back from this, Dutch? I’m not seeing the end goal here.”

“We’re just trying to survive, Hosea. We don’t have a choice,” Dutch responded, finally looking to his beta confidant.

“We always have a choice, Dutch.” Hosea pushed to his feet, acknowledging Arthur before grabbing hold of the alpha’s shoulder. “Arthur, you talk some sense into this man. There’s no good with fleeing and killing.”

Arthur opened his mouth, looking from his beta father figure to his alpha one. It was a hardy argument between both parents, with Hosea not even looking Dutch in the eye.

“So, we moving?” Arthur asked innocently enough. Hosea scoffed outwardly from his side. Dutch nodded and responded with a quick ‘yes’.

“This’ll end soon.” Dutch leaned forward to catch Hosea’s avoiding glare, trying to ease his companion to speak directly to him.

“Damn right it will.” The beta huffed, retracting his hand from Arthur’s shoulder and storming away with a full hitch in his giddy up.

Dutch repeated Hosea’s huff after him, then waved his hand and turned back to his map. “Micah told me of a place we can lie low.”

Arthur stopped, giving his elder alpha a hardened stare. “Micah got back? When?”

He’d hoped he was the first one to see the trifling alpha slither back to camp. The fact that he’d slipped under his radar must’ve meant he came back when Arthur and John were away. Leaving him enough time to nuzzle up to his leader and brownnose his way back into Dutch’s good graces.

“A few days back. He caught up with Sean after your south side train fiasco, rode back into camp with a hefty contribution to the camp funds.” Dutch traced his finger along the map, following up a dry river. “Look here, Dewberry Creek.”

Arthur leaned over to look at the spot on the map where Dutch’s finger poked. He spared a glance at Dutch’s face, standing upright. “Okay.” He was going to sniff out that weaselly alpha as soon as he was far enough away from Dutch’s tent. After he helped John with some heavy lifting of course.

Or maybe during. Arthur knew that he could possibly heat the geld quick enough between tearing down both tents.

“Maybe you and Charles can go take a look, scope out the land, clear off anyone you can find before the whole lot of us move in looking so conspicuous. But keep away from herds of sheep.”

Arthur sported a mildly amused grimace. “And how we gonna do that?”

“I don’t know,” Dutch said pointedly. “Start dancing?”

Arthur dared baring one set of canines to Dutch. “Looks like I’ve turned into the goddamn errand boy.”

He turned, waving his hand at Dutch and leaving the tent. Dutch stood up, following him out to the open area of the camp. “You have turned into my son. You worry because I worry.”

Arthur ignored Dutch’s shout, returned to John’s tent, _their_ tent, and started to pick up all things set before the entrance. John started to untie the tarp from the tentpoles, folding back the cloth to expose the bare bones.

“Don’t overwork yourself, John,” Hosea said, insisting to help from the outside. The beta called for Sean to help as well, the youngling putting up a rouse of protest.

“Shut up and help me lift. John, you go help the girls.” Hosea nodded John away from his task, which by John’s glaring look, his eyes catching the overhead rays, was not how he wanted to look so meager.

“Hosea, I—”

“Son, if you don’t take this pity, I will be quick in sitting you down myself.” Hosea was quick and short with his tone. “Now go.”

John looked over to Arthur, who shrugged. “It’d be easier that way, John.”

“Oh, and Johnny boy gets to bow out once again? His scar giving him grief?” Sean was loud after John, leaning and taunting. Arthur took a step towards the young alpha, his way stopped by John’s hand.

“It’d be easier this way,” he repeated with a low growl. Arthur’s lip twitched and John walked away with a scritch of the alpha’s chest.

“You watch your mouth, boy,” Arthur barked.

Sean stopped in his task, leaving Hosea to hold the last fold of the tarp. “And why should I? You defending poor little John’s honor? He’s useless, Arthur. You and I both know it. Best thing he’s worth is on his back.”

Arthur barely recognized his sudden snap, barreling towards the redhead with his mouth opened wide, teeth bared and tongue recoiled. “What’d you just say?” An arm came across Arthur’s chest, then another. Charles and Lenny tried to pull their brother back, barely holding him in place before he dragged them along.

The two held onto the alpha’s wrists, gripping harshly into Arthur’s skin while he revved up further, practically pouncing the distance between him and Sean.

“It-it-it’s a joke, Arthur, calm down.” Sean’s hands were up in defense, ducking behind Hosea stuck in holding the tarp up.

“Arthur,” Hosea began, freeing a hand and holding it out to make his oldest stop.

“Arthur!” Dutch called from across the deck of his tent.

“L-listen to Hosea, Arthur,” Sean said, his cocky demeanor now a puddle on the ground. His knees were close to buckling, ready to show his neck in submission.

Arthur refused to back down, releasing a loud quake of a roar to the trembling alpha hiding behind the beta. Hosea’s hand was now directly on Arthur’s chest, patting affirmatively.

“Settle down, son. You know he ain’t worth his grit,” Hosea’s tone was never frightened nor revved by the event at hand. “Take a step back, Arthur. Calm yourself.”

Arthur’s jaw twitched, his tongue now lining over his growing canines.

“He means no threat to John, boy. Take a step back.” Hosea was even more firm the second time and Arthur spared his honed stare to the beta. “Dumb boys will be as they are.”

“Right, wait, what?” Sean agreed hurriedly then looked at Hosea in offense. “That ain’t right.”

“Hush you. Unless you want to be a chew toy.” Hosea whispered lowly while Lenny and Charles gained leverage of Arthur’s strength and pulled him back.

The rest of the camp was eager to see the situation unfold. The girls stood up from their task of emptying buckets and loading up Pearson’s wagon while Kieran and Javier dropped the horse hitch for the caravans.

“What is wrong with you, Arthur?” Dutch asked, coming down from his deck and stopping before his son. “Did you blow a gasket in Valentine? We don’t have time to waste on petty name-calling.”

Arthur sniffed and huffed, his sudden feral nature crawling back to its depths. He looked between the three: Dutch, Hosea, and finally Sean, then snatched his arms away and pointed at the youngling.

“You ever _ever_ have John’s name in yer mouth, I’m making your neck my dinner.” Arthur straightened himself then called for Charles to follow him, boarding their horses and going to scope out Dewberry Creek.

The remainder of camp looked to John, who stepped away to the treeline for a third round of nausea. Sean slinked away from the beta’s cover while Micah reared his ugly head just to shake it at John.

“What?” John asked, casually pinching the corners of his mouth free of spittle.

“What exactly, son,” Dutch said, closing the distance between him and John. “Wanna tell me what’s got Arthur so rearing and ready to snatch out Sean’s throat?”

John stammered, leaning to look over at Sean and Hosea still at the tent.

“Dutch, leave the boy alone,” Hosea began. “Do your own share of work, why don’t you?”

“Hosea, you measly and pesky mother hen, stay out of this.” Dutch held a finger behind him to hush his companion though his baring eyes never left John’s. “What is going on between you two?”

“A-ain’t nothing new, Dutch. Honest,” John lied, and it only pulled more acid forward. He folded a hand over his throat, massaging it to relax.

The leader alpha narrowed his eyes, unconvinced, then leaned in for a hefty sniff of John. John froze, hoping to sponge back all of the scent that he produced. If it could be told now, everything he had planned to say would be mouth-vomited out as an excuse.

Dutch’s nose wiggled, passing over John’s shoulder, then his head and the other before taking a step back and leaning forward to sniff the omega’s chest. John felt his fingers itching to clamp over his stomach, hide the sensitive part of his waist from being inspected.

“Dutch!” Hosea snapped, pushing the rest of the tarp to Sean’s hands. “I said, leave him alone.” He waved his hands to everyone else standing around, watching Dutch eye John with deep scrutiny. “Get back to work, all of you! This ain’t a free show.”

His order took effect, the rest of the camp returning to their tasks with double pace now. Hosea cut between the alpha and omega, turned to Dutch. “He’s done nothing wrong. Leave him be.”

Dutch slowly stood upright, towering over his defensive beta intimate. “You two are hiding something from me. Aren’t ya? And you got Arthur in on it, too.” He nodded after his long-disappeared son.

Hosea exhaled deeply, a hand going to knead his much-tired brow. “We should talk, the four of us. But _only_ when we get settled at the new camp.” He was stern in his condition, raising a finger to make a point. “Until then, don’t berate John. He’s going to be helping the girls and Miss Grimshaw.”

John was on edge behind his average beta mentor, the man standing up against _his_ own alpha. Dutch struggled in his falter, his mustache jerking itself into a snarl. “Fine. But if I don’t get answers, you’re all sufferin’ for it.”

When the leader alpha bowed away, Hosea looked over his shoulder to John. The omega crossed his arms low, more than second nature now, and released a held breath.

“No more putting it off,” Hosea added before returning to John’s tent to help Sean. “The time is now, John.”

Later that night, after the rest of the camp was settling in, John was once again pacing. This time, he’d taken up chewing at his stubby thumbnail, shaking his hand away every few seconds while he thought of what to say.

Abigail and Arthur were both sitting in the tent, watching the omega grow cagey and anxious. She looked to the alpha, resting his elbows to his knees and holding his head in his hands.

“Boys,” she said, cutting through the tensioned silence. “It ain’t the end of the world. Yer both adults. It ain’t like yer still eighteen.” Abigail pointed to John. “Could you imagine? If you were active at eighteen? Dutch and Hosea would’ve had their hands full.”

“How is this helping?” John asked, stopping mid-step and waving his slobbered hand for emphasis.

“Just thought it was funny.” Abigail sat back again, crossing her arms. “You two are wound up tight.”

Arthur was quiet in this, though he knew his part was severe. This felt worse than when the rest of the camp heard them at night. Where was his alpha pride now, declaring and crossing before John while nuzzling his face to his stomach? _These are mine. They are my pack._ He craned his neck back and scoffed in defeat.

“It’s not like it’s gonna disappoint Dutch.” Abigail tried again and John returned to his stride.

“That’s not the point,” John started. Arthur sat upright and nodded in agreement.

“John’s right. We ain’t worried about him knowing. It’s what we want to tell him after that’s the problem.”

“What, what is it?” Abigail was eager now to know. She switched between Arthur and John, waiting for either of them to cough up another answer.

“We wanna go straight,” John offered, stopping again and holding his hand out towards Abigail. “We can’t keep running like this.”

Abigail’s face scrunched, her nose slowly turning up. “You can’t be serious.” She turned to Arthur, who was staring only at John like the man had pierced the night sky with stars. “Arthur? And leave yer family behind?”

Arthur was hard to pull away from John again, catching once again his sweet scent along with the pinch of yarrow deep below. “It ain’t like that, Abigail. We want us all to turn a new leaf, so we don’t get into no more trouble.”

Abigail scoffed at the attempt. “You two been reading too many fairytales. All we are is a bunch of liars, thieves and killers.”

John didn’t want to waste his breath; he knew it sounded like a lost cause. “We ain’t asking to forget everyone’s past. Just that if we’re gonna pull our weight, we make it honest.”

“And you think that’ll stop the Pinkertons on our trail?” Abigail retorted, raising a brow at John.

Arthur spared a deviant smirk, now staring at his hands clasped between his knees. “We only need a mastermind, don’t we?”

“What’chu mean?” Abigail gave the alpha a window to explain.

“Micah got back not too long ago.” Arthur looked up at John, who shoved his hands into his pockets. “And already, he’s broken one of our conditions.”

“Conditions?” Abigail parroted.

“He did?” John asked. Arthur nodded, standing up.

“He was the one that told Dutch about Dewberry Creek. He ain’t changed none, he ain’t tryin’ to change. I don’t think he takes us serious.” Arthur’s eyes turned dark while he stared at John, hoping his mate was catching on.

John nodded with a smirk. “Yer right. How could a weasel like him learn consequences over his actions?”

“Wait, wait wait.” Abigail was up now, her hands urging a pause in the rolling conversation. “What conditions?”

“Fer saving the bastard in Strawberry.” John’s face contorted in a sneer. “We should’ve left the bastard t’swing.”

Arthur held a finger up, then lowered his voice between the two omegas. “Nah, he’s more useful now than he ever was. We turn him in like the rat he is, claim he’s Van Der Linde. Whatever’s to follow outta his mouth ain’t nothin’ more than a lie to cover his hide.”

Abigail was following, nodding to the thought of such a plan but John grabbed Arthur’s wrist. “What about Cornwall? He’s done seen Dutch’s face.”

Arthur chuckled dryly, snapping his fingers for a thought. “Didn’t Dutch say it was a case of mistaken identity? All we did was save our friends from certain death for being wrongly accused. Put the word out that they pulled a gun on the wrong man and we slip Micah right in his place.”

“That sounds convoluted,” Abgail whispered. “I’m in.”

John wasn’t hard to convince either. “Fine. But if this don’t work…”

“It’s gonna work, Darlin’.” Arthur was sure of himself once again, the plan so exaggerated that it had to work between the three of them. “We ain’t dumb. Well, ain’t that dumb.”

He looked to Abigail. “Now, I don’t know if you’d be comfortable with this, but we need ya to bait him. If he ain’t changed for Dutch, he’s surely not respecting the women.”

Abigail scoffed. “If it’ll get that bastard out of our lives, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

At that, the three tabled the topic for future discussion. There were steps that had to be taken before the presented the wild alpha to the authorities. Abigail gave John a swift squeeze, promising him that he’d be alright in the face of Dutch.

She offered a pat to Arthur’s shoulder then left the tent.

“We ain’t got all night,” John said to Arthur, his fingers combing through his hair and carding his hands together. “Are you ready?”

Arthur saw John’s body break into a menial shake, his nerves getting to him. He reached around the omega, pulled him close for a hug and rubbed his forehead to John’s scent gland. John’s hands fell around Arthur’s broad shoulders, holding him there while the alpha brought his teeth up and began to graze over John’s skin.

“It’ll be okay. It ain’t nothin’ too bad.” Arthur began his purr, everything he knew to ease his mate down. “I’m sure Dutch’ll love the thought of bein’ a granddaddy.”

John grimaced at that notion. “Never say that again.” He spared an airy chuckle and Arthur pulled away slowly.

Arthur’s rough hands went for John’s face, cradling his cheeks while carefully minding his scratches. His bright eyes scanned over his omega’s face, mapping all of his intricate details. “I’m ready.”

The two left the tent, seeing Dutch’s tent wide open and well-lit. Inside were Dutch, doing his own lick of pacing, while Hosea sat once again at the table and Miss Grimshaw stood in the back.

Dutch stopped on mid-turn to see Arthur and John standing just before the tent. “Boys. Why’s it seems like I’m about to punish you?” He motioned for the two inside then reached to close the tent flaps.

John stood before the three senior leaders with Arthur pressed directly behind him to save space. He glanced over his shoulder to his alpha, who was struggling to keep his eye contact with the three.

“So, who’s going to start?” Miss Grimshaw asked, pointing between the two. John and Arthur suddenly felt young again, about to be chastised for getting into Susan’s sugar bowl.

Hosea cleared his throat, sitting back and crossing his arms. Dutch moved in front of the two, arms tight around his chest as well. Arthur started with a stammer and everything he wanted to say was about to rush out of him.

John broke into a light sweat between the four, the acid slowly creeping back up his throat. He took a deep breath in then stifled a light gag before closing his eyes.

“Well?” Dutch asked, using his hand leading for one of them to answer.

Arthur’s hands went for John’s waist, slowly ducking down and resting his chin on his omega’s shoulder. Hosea looked between the two, seeing that neither of them were making a move to bring light to their situation.

“I-We…” John opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by Miss Grimshaw telling him to speak up.

Arthur forced his spine to straighten and he curled his arms tighter around John’s waist, his forearms folded over his stomach like a remedial shield. John exhaled a shaky breath, his alpha a stone behind him but very comforting.

Hosea tried help ease the confession out easier, leaning forward with anticipation. How could this family be more intimidating to their own members? John couldn’t urge it out. There wasn’t any indication that the three would be content with the news, especially now.

“John’s pregnant,” Arthur finally choked out, hiding his face against the top of John’s head.

John stiffened, his body going wholly rigid while his hands itched to fold over his slightly pudging stomach. Dutch was silent, a whole feat in itself, as he sat down on his cot slack-jawed.

Miss Grimshaw’s hands slipped from her hips, her normally judgmental face softening with the revelation. “You serious?”

John offered a short nod and Arthur’s arms squeezed him comfortingly. Hosea exhaled, uncrossing his arms and sitting forward, relieved. One hand braced his thigh while his other arm folded close to his knee.

Dutch wasn’t showing anymore expression, just sitting back and staring blankly at his two sons. John gulped, sparing a glance to the elder alpha.

“Dutch,” Susan said, reaching a hand out for his shoulder. “Yer gonna be a grandpappy.”

Hosea chuckled at that but John turned his face away to hide his grimace.

The female alpha was in front of him, hands holding out to cup John’s stomach guarded by Arthur’s arms. The mates glared at Susan, hoping she wouldn’t try it because both of their chests were rumbling.

Instead, her hands globed around the air before John, her face giddy and twisted like a penny dreadful witch. “That’s amazing, John. Arthur.” Her mood swiftly took a turn, giving both men a swat at their ear. “And very stupid of you.”

John muttered his agreement to Miss Grimshaw but Arthur’s purr was once again reassuring.

“Dutch, don’t you have something to say to the boys?” Hosea was urging Dutch to speak, short of grabbing the alpha by the collar and shaking him for an answer.

The leader only exhaled heavily, leaving the air in the room a degree hotter. “Very stupid indeed.” He rose to his feet, giving both Arthur and John a stern look before leaving the tent with a flourish.

Arthur felt his gut sink, only holding John closer. A lump formed in John’s throat. Miss Grimshaw was quick to reassure them that he just needed a moment, they were okay.

The whole reason they were in here was to tell Dutch what they wanted next. The leader leaving wasn’t part of the plan.

“How far along are you?” Susan asked, resting her hands on her hips once again.

“Seven weeks, ma’am,” John spoke up with Arthur slowly loosening his hold. John took the moment to touch at his stomach, gently rubbing before Miss Grimshaw’s hand rested on top of his.

She grabbed onto John’s wrist, her spindly fingers clasping around the omega’s wrist. “And you’re practically skin and bones. I’ll have Pearson make you some stew.”

John didn’t respond, the acid still making its way up his throat. “That’s kind ma’am, but…” He gently snatched his hand back. “I’ll be back.”

Arthur’s arms were left empty with John leaving the tent, circling around the side and stopping against the shore of the lake to spit out a bit of bile.

“You should get him some ginger tea,” Hosea offered, slowly pushing himself to stand.

“I’ll see if Pearson can add some ginger to the stew.” Susan wrung her hands out on her apron then nodded at Arthur. She grinned brightly, reaching to pinch at the alpha’s cheek. “Bright, stupid boy. That pup’s in for it.”

She left with a happy click in her walk, directly making her way to Pearson and his stew, already making a fuss for changing up the recipe. John slowly stood up, once again cleaning his mouth while staring across the dark waters.

“Whatd’ya wanna do, Arthur? What’s the plan now?” Hosea asked, opening the tent again.

Arthur stepped out after his beta. “’Bout time to make ourselves honest. But for now, we’ll keep unpackin’.”

Hosea nodded, watching his alpha son walk off. “You follow that straight and narrow, son.”

Arthur went back to his tent, with John starting back in the same direction ready to trudge into bed. His body was starting to weight comfortingly, and his shoulders felt a dull ache. Inside, John gave Arthur’s backside a loving pat then crawled on to bed.

He rolled onto his back, a hand resting lazily on his chest. “Dutch took that well.”

Arthur was dismissal with his scoff while he pulled his clothes out one by one. John reached out, sniffed each garment before finally urging Arthur to just re-wear everything. “Don’t be so glum. He’ll come around, John.”

John sat up on an elbow, “What happened to ‘Darlin’’?”

“Depends on the moment,” Arthur said, taking his hat from his head and setting it atop his dresser chest. He kicked off his boots next then undid his belt before setting them all to the side. “Don’t tell me yer getting’ used to it?”

The omega shrugged a shoulder, “Dunno. It only comes from you, it’s nice.” John casually walked his fingers along Arthur’s bedroll, giving the fabric a teasing smirk. “The way you say it makes me feel good inside.”

Arthur raised a brow, “Does it?” He kneeled down then crawled onto his bedroll, leaning over John. His mate slowly rolled onto his back, his hand now combing through Arthur’s mussed chestnut hair. If he kept growing it out, John wasn’t sure if he could control himself.

Coolly, John lurched up with an affirmative hum, tongue lining along Arthur’s scent gland while his hands followed down the alpha’s back. “ _Real_ good inside.”

“I thought I wore you out,” Arthur whispered, reaching up to poke at the tip of John’s nose. His finger then trailed down, tracing John’s lips.

John nestled further into his bedroll, his body practically shutting down in exhaustion. “You did, ya bastard.” He still pulled back, nibbling at Arthur’s ear before resting back. “But I still want you.”

Arthur growled lowly, watching John nuzzle his face against the pillow. He knew the exhaustion was there, Arthur didn’t want to push his luck. With a soft knuckle trailing down John’s stubbly chin. “Another time, darlin’.”

John tiredly snarked, “You’re not fair.”

Arthur pressed a quick kiss to John’s lips. “We ain’t always gonna be fair. You need sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The omega’s eyes struggled to remain open, slowly resting closed. He reached a hand out and rubbed at Arthur’s face. “Yer gonna be a hard ass to the pup, ain’t you?”

“When I have to be,” Arthur said, rolling off of John and pulling the blanket up his mate’s body.

“You better be the fun parent, ‘cause I wanna be the hardass,” John was slurring now, still fighting off what his body so necessary needed.

“Okay.” Arthur took hold of John’s lazy hand, pressing his lips to the omega’s palm before dropping it to his side.

“I’m a stern pa,” John muttered, finally drifting off to sleep.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Arthur patted John’s side, resting down beside him. Using his own bicep as his pillow, Arthur waited until John rolled over into the empty space, allowing the alpha to cuddle him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need a wholesome domestic moment. 
> 
> More wholesome, please.


	23. Not Without Provocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks pass by, with no new developments in John and Dutch's relationship. Or is there?Arthur, for the first time in a short while, puts his foot down with John wanting to be reckless. John also meets a new omega in the town of Rhodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely, positively, 100 percent tired of not being able to write these faster. If you only knew how many times I had to delete a part because I was getting so ahead of myself. 
> 
> Ughhh, I just want more feral. Please. That's all I feel I'm good for.

The next three weeks left John ignored by Dutch. While the alpha remained cordial to Arthur, John was left behind in all gang activities, left to nurse his ginger tea and Pearson’s recently improved stew. The tent was redecorated, with their nest refreshed by Arthur taking the time to wear all of his clothing for nearly a month.

While Dutch refused to acknowledge him, Miss Grimshaw and the girls made up for it in abundance. While they all wanted to touch John’s slight stomach, purr and love over the pup cradled in there, John and Arthur were much more protective as time went on.

John wore his jacket close around his body often, keeping him from holding onto the attachment that was his pup. Arthur was close to John’s side by any close brush the others gave John, passing and nuzzling his omega.

John urged Arthur on with Dutch’s plan while they still could, anything to pool their funds. He wanted to make sure that Arthur knew that once they had a thousand, they would go straight. There was no way they couldn’t make it.

John woke up on the morning of his tenth week, purring against Arthur, who was still snoring soundly. The two were more content in their own little bubble, slowly growing more irritable when they were disrupted. Proud and lazy, a couple of lions marveling in each other.

“When’re you gonna start kickin’, hmm?” Arthur woke and asked into John’s hair, petting at John’s bare stomach. Warm and soft, his omega was beautiful, conforming against him.

“Yer impatient,” John replied softly, his hand lining down Arthur’s back.

He felt that the alpha bulked over the past few weeks with all of his choring and eating Pearson’s meals. His purr was louder, laced with a sultry undertone. John liked the slow improvement of Arthur, beefing up like any alpha did for the sake of protection.

“He’ll move when he wants to.” John pressed his lips to the front of Arthur’s throat, feeling the bob of his adam’s apple.

“He?” Arthur’s lazy voice turned hopeful. “You think it’s a boy?”

John hummed in response, holding over Arthur’s hand on his stomach. “I feel it.”

The alpha hid a grin in John’s dirty hair, his arm that was John’s pillow curling around the omega’s head. He pulled back the brunet’s long locks and whispered, “I wanna girl too.”

John laughed at that, a low, forced huff as his knuckles traced up Arthur’s spine. “We’ll see about that.”

Arthur growled menially, followed by a childish whimper. John’s other hand turned into the alpha’s stomach, hardening into a fist before giving Arthur’s hip a gentle jab.

“Alright, alright. I can wait.”

“You better,” John whispered, his eyes closing again. Arthur did the same, nosing through John’s hair, catching small scents of freshwater and evergreens.

Their peace was soon interrupted by Hosea, calling for Arthur around camp. The alpha groaned, only nuzzling closer to John as if the two together they were camouflaged.

“I know I said it before but I mean it when I say that if you leave this bed, I will make your rut a living hell.” John’s tone was lazy, but still sharp on the backend. Arthur was firmly planted in John’s hold, only wanting to be caressed and purred at, maybe even groomed by the omega’s soft tongue.

Arthur, in the last three weeks, was becoming insanely whipped to John’s beck and call. The alpha was big and strong, of course, but he was still no match for the carrier of his pup. Or John in general.

“Arthur, son, I need you to come with me. We won’t be long, I’m sure John can spare you for a few hours,” Hosea offered as an excuse.

Arthur slowly peeked his eyes open, craned his head back to see John’s expression and was not surprised by the scowl there.

“Can’t do it,” John murmured, purposefully tangling himself on the outside of Arthur’s thigh, making their chests press and heave as one. “Yer busy.”

Arthur grumbled at Hosea, knowing that his mind was meant elsewhere but in John’s presence, he couldn’t get enough of him. Whatever phase they were in, whether it would last or not, was something to revel in.

Still, Arthur put their promise to the front of their mind. “We need that money, Darlin’.”

John couldn’t contest to that. He’d been trying to pull his weight on missions, but between Dutch not letting him and Arthur fiercely protecting him, John’s options were limited.

“I know.” John forfeited, resting his forehead to Arthur’s chest. He felt without purpose, turning exactly what he swore he didn’t want to be.

Arthur felt the pull in his chest hum lowly, worming down with the sudden drop in John’s mood. “Hey Hosea,” he called over his shoulder. “You think we can find something for John to do?”

“Of course, son. Come on out when you’re ready.”

Catherine Braithwaite was an unbecoming woman, an elder omega. Definitely a nurturer, John could tell by her abundance of boys. Each one, an alpha. A purebred family, maybe purer than anyone thought.

Still, she was inviting to John when Arthur and Hosea returned with her hooch. Originally, she was standoffish, cagey and growling when the alpha and beta returned with her family’s moonshine.

John remained on the wagon while Arthur and Hosea approached the woman, her boys brandishing their weapons behind her.

“Relax, I ain’t here to rob you, though it seems that’s easy enough,” Hosea spoke. “Wanna do a deal. How much you sell that stuff for?”

“Dollar a bottle,” the strange woman gritted between her teeth.

“Give us fifty cents,” Hosea offered as a counterpoint.

“It’s already ours,” Braithwaite emphasized, leaning forward with her hands on her hips, scanning over the two men before her looking for their own personal grit.

“Look on it as a reward, for finding the property.” Hosea was collected, monotonous and persuasive. What he always wanted Dutch’s boys to be in situations. “Alternative is we go sell it somewhere else.”

One of the Braithwaite boys stepped forward, crossing behind his mother with a double-barrel. Even as an alpha, he lacked the intimidation. Something that must’ve been lost in the gene pool.

John was quick to climb off of the wagon, the Braithwaite alpha pointing his gun in the face of his mate and Hosea. His hand went for his holster before he swore under his breath. _What am I, a child?_

He looked to Arthur’s back, saw his revolver firmly secured under the man’s waistband. John would definitely be having a talk with that man when they were done here.

He approached slowly, carefully, with Catherine taking grip of the end of the gun and forcing it to point at the porch ceiling.

“Pay the man,” she ordered, her eyes shifting from the two grizzled men before her to the cleaner looking one in the back. “You there, you’re with them?”

John froze, slowly tipping his hat back with a nod as Arthur and Hosea turned to look. “Yes ma’am.”

“You don’t look like them, you’re too keen to get your hands dirty, huh?” She held her hand out, making the two men part ways.

John took it as an insult. He looked to his hands, dirty, yes, but still lacking the roughness of Arthur’s. He cleared his throat, wanting to contest the woman’s claim but her hand was already held out for his.

“Omega, are you?” Her question was accusatory, definite. One of her well-worn, soft hands pressed to the back of John’s healing cheek. “Even with those scars, ain’t you beautiful?”

“T-thank you, ma’am.” John carefully leaned his face from the strange woman’s touch.

Arthur took a step forward while one of the Braithwaite alphas handed the money to Hosea. His eyes were focused on John, how the omega matriarch reveled over his physical appearance.

Hosea cleared his throat at the woman, hoping her attention would divert. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Arthur held his hand out, urging for John to take it. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Catherine looked at Arthur, her brows suddenly knitted together in a slight sorrow. “Oh, he can stay for a cup of tea, can’t he? While you and Hosea do a little something for me?” Her tone changed from harping to syrup, already content by the youthful omega before her.

“I don’t think I should,” John spoke up, only to be silenced by a lengthy finger to his lips.

“Hush now, I’m sure you’re on your feet all day with these two. Con after con.” Catherine returned her attention to John. She bore into his eyes, hers an unreflecting gray. “Stay, have some tea. Play some cribbage. It’s been too long since I’ve had another omega in the house.”

Arthur was immediately off put by the situation, staring at the elder omega with a growing sneer. There was something by the way she was looking at John, prizing him up with each miniscule glance to his features.

John spared a glance to Arthur, his hands affirmatively closing his coat. “I’d love to ma’am, but another time.”

Catherine swiftly balked, retreating her hands from John with a smile. “Of course, but you’ll have to return soon.” She reset herself, turning back to Hosea with a menacing glare. “As for you, you can do something for me. I’ll have an extra ten bucks for you if you do. You take this booze, drive it up to the tavern run by Sheriff Gray and give it out for free.”

John took that as his chance to duck from the omega’s hold, going back to the wagon and reclaiming his seat at the front of the vehicle. He felt his body break into a disgusted shiver, the Braithwaite woman not being more of a hospitable figure the more laid it on thick.

With the conversation over, Arthur was first back to the wagon. He waited until the Braithwaite matriarch returned in her mansion before his hands touched at John’s face, his neck. Though he’d been there for the whole thing, Arthur wasn’t taking any chances.

“What the hell was that about?” Arthur asked to John, grabbing the reins with Hosea climbing on in the last moment.

“My thoughts exactly,” Hosea added, climbing over a crate of hooch to stand against the railing.

John couldn’t answer either, it wasn’t something to understand. The only thing he knew was that he wouldn’t meet that woman without Arthur around. She seemed too proper and too slimy to be trusted. He felt a chill on his shoulder just thinking about her again.

“Never again,” John offered as solace to the two men. “Not without backup, which by the way…”

He reached behind Arthur’s back, lining down the man’s suspenders before grabbing the hilt of his gun. Pulling it free, Arthur disguised a deviant smirk with a glance to the sun overhead.

“When’d you snatch this offa me?” John asked, waving his revolver in his mate’s face though Arthur avoided eye contact with the weapon.

“When Miss Grimshaw grabbed you and told you to eat somethin’. It wasn’t necessary.” Arthur looked back to the path, making a detour back to camp for John’s sake.

“For me, but it was necessary for you?” John quirked a brow at Arthur’s profile, hoping for his next retort.

“Well, yes, but John…” Arthur didn’t want to argue, not while he was focused on driving.

“No ‘buts’, Arthur. Yer doin’ it again.” The edge grew in John’s voice. This was the same argument from back in Valentine. “You can’t be expecting me to sit while you and the others go guns blazing.”

“That’s exactly what we expect, John,” Hosea spoke up from behind. The beta reached and tugged John’s gun from his hand. “You wanna be useful, then be useful. But not around gunfire. Not with that pup.”

“He ain’t even born yet,” John offered though the point was moot.

Arthur gripped the reins in one hand, turned to John. “You done told me that you ain’t raising that pup without me. Well, I ain’t raising it without _you_. So, no more guns. End of discussion.”

His tone was final, his teeth grit and his chest ending the sentence with a firm undergrowl. John clammed up then, only staring in the face of his no longer amused alpha. Arthur’s mouth was frowning harshly, his brows knitted together and down, giving his eyes a dark shadow.

Arthur refused to raise his voice anymore at John, offering his advice with a gentle nudge in the right direction. Now was when John saw the hardass within him, something that would be trickled down to their child when they were being a brat. The chastising of his omega, reeling John back into line. It’d only happen a few times.

John was being unreasonable. He knew his fault in the argument but Arthur’s quick snap solidified that. He was wrong, yes, but that didn’t mean the alpha should sneak away his gun.

He only nodded to Arthur’s snapping tone, releasing his holster to Hosea as the wagon came to a stop. John began to climb from the wagon, only to be stopped by Arthur’s hand on his.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Darlin’. I swear, I’ll let you shoot up a town afterwards, okay?” Arthur joked, though he didn’t smile. Instead, he leaned and pressed his lips to John’s temple while the omega smirked.

“And I better get the best damn whisky too. I’m going right back to cigarettes, too,” John said with a hum at his alpha’s affection.

The next morning, John was jolted awake by a gentle argument. Not so much as gentle as it was hushed, and more one-sided. He climbed out of his nest, pulling on his jacket as he peeled back the tent flap to see Dutch towering over Hosea, pointing in his direction.

Neither of them acknowledged John’s sudden presence, still spewing harsh words at a low volume to not arouse the sleeping camp. John was only awake because once again, the pup was pressing to his bladder, reminding him.

“There ain’t no good coming from a child at this camp, Hosea,” Dutch said, his hands now wildly gesturing. “All it will do is slow us down. We are not babysitters, we are outlaws.”

“Funny,” Hosea began, “because the last time I said we were outlaws, you said we were what? ‘Free-spirits making our own rules’. What happened to that?”

“It’s getting further away, is what’s happening to it.” Dutch threw his hands down then pointed in Hosea’s face. “You know what I meant by that. We are not bogged down my childish whims and wishful thinking. I mean, what do they even think will happen now?”

The leader alpha turned away with a huff, retreating into his tent with Hosea following. John took a few timid steps in the same direction, still listening in.

“They had a plan they wanted to tell you.” Hosea offered. “They wanted to go straight, but you ran out before you even tried to listen to them. This ain’t some childish whim, Dutch, they’re in love. Don’t you see how Arthur trails after John like a lovesick puppy?”

Dutch scoffed, throwing a hand at the beta’s statement. “He was the same way with that Mary girl, look how that turned out.”

Hosea shook his head. “John marked him, Dutch. This is serious. And you not acknowledging that will drive a wedge between you and your sons.”

Dutch sat down on his cot. “H-how do we even know if the pup is Arthur’s, hmm? Who knows, maybe John’s just as fast as Abigail.”

“You watch your words, Dutch.” Hosea bared his teeth suddenly, an act nobody ever saw the beta do before. “That is vile slander you are throwing at your own boy. And for what? Are you trying to lose both of them? Did you not see how Arthur almost mauled Sean for a measly joke?”

“Who are you baring your teeth at me?” Dutch was now collected, almost offended by Hosea’s outward reaction. He slowly stood back up. “I will not lose them; they are my sons. But I will not condone a child in this camp.”

John felt his nose twitch, the feeling rousing within him something he couldn’t distinguish. Between the frustration and hurt, John’s eyes slowly blurred with a mist of tears.

“They’ll be gone whether you want them to or not. Arthur and John want to be a family, there is nothing you or I can do to stop it. There’s no reason to. It’s happening.” Hosea added firmly, pointing his finger to the ground. “I will do everything in my power to make it so. They don’t need your damn blessing; be happy they came to you at all.”

John remembered the reason for his waking and sidled away to do what he needed. Returning to his tent, he was grabbed by the shoulder and turned to face Dutch.

“John,” Dutch began, his dark eyes searching the omega’s face while his mouth was parted to speak.

John waited, without baited breath, for his leader to say something. Acknowledge him, praise him, accept what the outcome would be. But he’d be waiting a long time. Dutch slipped his hand from John’s shoulder, his lips pursing as he shook his head and walked away.

Just as he had the night they told him.

“Why can’t you just accept it, Dutch?” John asked, surprising himself. “Why can’t you just accept this?”

Dutch looked over his shoulder, his lips a straight line. “I will not have you taking my son from me.”

 _But I’m your son too._ “What about me, Dutch? Ain’t I one of yours?”

Dutch’s mouth turned into a wry smirk. “No omegas are sons of mine.”

John felt his stomach lurch at the leader’s simple words. It was jarring, a casual notion that Dutch only raised alphas, only kept alphas. And the only reason he was still around was because of Hosea?

The words brought acid to his throat, a symptom he thought he’d rid of by now. John’s eyes stung again, wanting to shed a tear in the face of his leader but chose not to. It was what Dutch wanted, to purposefully prod John to tears. To reveal his true nature of meager and weak.

Then he’d be no son of his. That would be the final straw, the write off of John to solidify his own twisted philosophy. John didn’t give him the satisfaction, only ducked back into his tent.

He stood by, his teeth now gritting together while he balled his hands into fists. If he shed a tear now, he’d still be weak. There was no need for weakness. Even if he weren’t Dutch’s boy, he’d never show an emotion.

Arthur slowly woke up to the harsh growl of his mate by the entrance of the ten. He blinked himself awake, sitting up quickly and reaching for his shirt.

“John?” He questioned his stone-still omega as he rose to his feet.

John was refusing to blink, the bottom of his lashes now heavy with pooling tears. He wouldn’t do it, he couldn’t, but oh how he wanted to. It was so light in its presentation but so heavy with its meaning. _No omegas are sons of mine._

 _Denouncement._ Abruptly leaving John without yet another father. Only Hosea was left, and while he was better, the hurt was still there with Dutch so casually bragging his status and lowering John’s.

Arthur moved quickly to John, closing his arms around his mate and moving him further into the tent. Inquisitive hands searched John’s body, from his shoulders to his back, down his sides, circling back up his waist to his stomach and finally to his face.

“What’s wrong? You okay? The pup okay?” Arthur’s thumbs lined under John’s wet eyes, threatening tears. He gently rubbed at the soft skin under them, coaxing his omega to relax.

John’s hands went for Arthur’s wrists, held onto his warm skin while he breathed and choked back the acid in his throat, pinching his nose and yo-yoing the tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Hey hey hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Arthur softened further, not wanting to see John shed tears over something Arthur didn’t know about. “I’m here, you can talk to me.”

John’s eyes broke, a few hot tears slipping down his cheeks and onto Arthur’s rough thumbs. It felt so menial now, the words. If he tried to explain to Arthur, he didn’t know if he’d feel the same hurt.

He opened his mouth anyways, his voice still a steady rasp rather than a tear-affected quake. “Dutch said I ain’t no son of his.”

Arthur drew back. “What?” His hands never left John, only cradling his tearful mate’s face and wiping away his tears.

“’No…” The word felt like it would bring bile out but John bit into it anyways. “ _omegas_ are sons of mine’.” John gulped, feeling Arthur’s thumb soothe him down from his growl.

Arthur wanted to react, wanted to tell John that he was hearing things or caught the bad end of a conversation. But how could he deny the effect those words had on John regardless? He offered his purr with a disapproving shake of his head, slowly pulling John into his hold.

John folded into him, let the man soothe him. His arms curled tightly around Arthur, knowing that the alpha would never solve his problems, but he was a comforting side-step. Him he could be weak in front of.

Arthur wanted to offer his solace in the form of words but he was suddenly brought back to threats. He would make a meal of Dutch’s throat, or even skin the man for a special hide rug. All of his thoughts were too dark and sinister to be taken lightly, with John so easily hurt.

There wasn’t much to do but just let John take comfort in him, let his frustration out in their own confines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is good boy, until John is involved, then he's raging. I like that I wrote that in for him, I dunno how you all feel. If he's not going to pester and tease John like he used to, then he's gonna redirect all of that into pure alpha rage.


	24. With Ignoration Comes Admiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John can't get over what Dutch said, how could he say that? Hosea is invited to tea at Braithwaite manor and Arthur wants to ask the heavy hitting question to John, but when?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...we don't have to talk about it. I don't really want to.

John was inseparable from Arthur for the next week. No sooner did Arthur leave was John once again torn apart by Dutch. Less of tears and more of rage, the incessant growling coming from the tent, warding anyone away from the tent.

Arthur brought him his meals, a bucket of water for his omega to clean up during his snap. He wasn’t sure how long it would last, or if it would ever end, but Arthur wasn’t one to be scared off by a little hiss and growl. Especially from John.

He was inconsolable except for Arthur. The lashing was to every other camp member, including Abigail. As though the other girls didn’t feel the same outcasting that he now knew. Arthur began to sport his same disdain to the others, his brothers especially.

The short temper was met with quick bows of defeat, each of the older alphas sneering after Arthur. Sean and Lenny learned to submit eagerly, while Bill was still hard so shake down.

“All because of sad sack of shit John, now you’ve got everyone quaking in their boots,” Bill said, still egging on Arthur as he walked away.

Arthur turned back and lifted Bill off of his feet with a harsh grip of the alpha’s collar. “You seem to act like I won’t make a meal out of you, Williamson. Yer right, I’m sure that stink of you is rotten all the way down.”

The alpha released Bill to the ground, watching him crumble with his loss of footing. Arthur leaned down, baring his teeth. “Just ‘cause you’re younger don’t mean I won’t make an example out of you.”

Miss Grimshaw pulled Arthur away by the ear, ignoring the practically feral man’s snapping and snorting. “You two must’ve lost your minds.”

Arthur yanked himself back, standing upright. He huffed, readjusting his clothes while standing before his tent. Susan stood before him, hands fixed at her hips, her natural menacing sneer prominent.

She sighed, shaking her head and throwing her hands up in defeat. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you better snap out of it. And John, too. Ya both reek, making my camp a mockery.”

Arthur bit back the baring of his canines. “It’s Dutch—”

“I don’t care what it is he said or what it is he did. It’s not my business. My business is this camp,” she added, straightening out her apron and leaving with a nod. “Fix it, Arthur.”

There was no fixing it. He ducked into the tent, was met with the cessation of John’s feral growl. His scent was rampant, almost ablaze. The gingery undertone was pinching harshly while the freshwater and evergreens were boiled and burning. An off-putting stench, a deterrent for the anger and defensiveness within.

With Arthur, he opened his arms and John ran into them, squeezing the alpha tight and scenting him profusely. John’s skin was hot, he’d refused to leave.

All he was doing was stewing, rolling in his anger at Dutch rather than lash out and be shot down. He couldn’t get his word in by an elder alpha, his leader no less. John’s nails dug into Arthur’s back, leaving half-moon marks that would never be seen except by the omega.

“Did you eat?” Arthur asked softly, brushing down John’s exceedingly wilding hair. He hadn’t properly bathed in over a month now, since Arthur’s rut.

The omega didn’t even both to comb through it during his rage. Arthur did his best, gently running his rough fingers through John’s tangled locks. His mate nodded, eyes slowly blinking closed by the gentle grooming.

“Let’s go outside, huh?” Arthur suggested, his hold still gentle on John. He was paling, his scars fading against the complexion that lacked sun.

John shook his head furiously, ducking himself into Arthur’s chest and holding himself there. He hadn’t used his words in days and Arthur deeply ached to hear John’s rasp again.

“Hosea’s been looking for ya,” Arthur lied softly, managing to get a finger caught in a knot. He used his thumb to gently separate the tangled strands then continued. “Said he’d like to take you back to see that Braithwaite woman.”

John scrunched his nose at that. He wanted to see Hosea, but that woman was a fright. He’d rather sit through the other girls talking about being looked down in town by alphas hoping a quick cure for their rut between the girls’ legs. He’d heard enough of that, now he just wanted to wallow in himself that his own status was enough of a marker for Dutch’s favor.

 _Who wanted Dutch’s favor that badly anyways_? It wasn’t that it did him any good, but the fact that Arthur was golden in the leader’s eyes while John was treated like a disfigured dog.

“I’ll come with ya, would do ya some good to get some fresh air. Stop smelling like a fleabag,” Arthur attempted to joke but was met with a sturdy jab to his hip. “Nope, you smell just fine, Darlin’, I’m just sayin’ the others might not think so.”

Not that either of them would care. John was honed in on his own hurt and Arthur was honed in on John. The disgusted faces of the camp were the last of John’s worries.

Halfway through the week, he’d turned his own fear inward, now hoping that their pup was anything but an alpha or an omega. At least then they’d live without the stigma of only being good for one thing or another.

“Don’t make me drag you outta here,” Arthur said with John nudging his face up to the alpha’s shoulder.

John offered a soft hiss which made Arthur chuckle. “That is so damn cute. A little socializing would do ya some good.”

He turned to catch John’s soft lips in a peck but John jabbed him again. “That woman scares the hell outta me.”

Arthur grinned, his hand cupping at John’s cheek. “He speaks. Maybe that woman is just the kick in the pants you need.”

“I wanna stew and I wanna spit,” John said with a low growl. Arthur chuckled again, his grin brightening the more he stared into John’s face. His eyes started to lighten the more he talked, coming forth from the feral web he spun himself into.

“Can’t be stewin’ but I’ll allow spittin’. Some sunlight, some tea. Catherine might even give you some tips on birthin’ pups.”

“That’s too damn far away,” John reminded him. Even though he was now getting anxious with the so far long arrival. It’d be many more months before they got to meet their pup, hold onto them and promise them anything in the world. John shook his head.

Arthur forced his plush bottom lip out in a pout and John felt his knees tremble at the sight. When he was soft, Arthur was just as attractive, if not more. It was all of him that made John want to bend, but damn it if Arthur wasn’t just a little too much when he was all tough or all soft.

John tried to look away, but he leaned in, taking nibble of the alpha’s bottom lip before pulling away. Arthur’s bright blue eyes shimmered in a way that made John bend a bit more.

“Fine, but I ain’t happy about it,” John said, caving into Arthur’s whim.

“Not yet, you aren’t.” Arthur pulled John in, gave his mate a heavy peck on his temple. “Get dressed, then we’ll ride.”

John huffed after Arthur backed away. The alpha bent down to grab one of John’s thermals and tossed it at him. John caught it, pulling it on before Arthur tossed a second for his mate to layer.

“Hide that reek of ya, just to make us look nice for Miss Braithwaite.” Arthur’s grin was back, full watt and John hid a roll of his eyes.

“We ain’t the ‘look nice’ type.”

“Speak fer yerself,” Arthur drawled, adjusting his bandana on his neck like a tie. “I look damn good in a suit.”

“I hope I get to see that sight one day.” John pulled the second shirt, a lightweight black thermal, over his head hiding the pudge of his stomach.

“Oh, you will, one day.” Arthur cleared off the top of his dresser chest to sit on it. “If you’ll have me of course.”

“If this is some way of a proposal, I am not swooned.” John walked over to stamp into his boots, using Arthur’s shoulders as leverage.

“Why?” asked Arthur, his hands taking hold of John’s waist and looking up to him. His grin nearly faltered, but by John’s smirk, it persisted. “’Cause I ain’t down on one knee, presenting a ring?”

“Because I am not a spring chicken, and you ain’t no day in the sun neither.” John bit out, having to reach down and tug one of his boots over his foot.

“Will you quit sayin’ that?” Arthur’s hand grazed up John’s side and back down comfortingly. “Just ‘cause Sean said it _once_ don’t make it true.”

John spared a chuckle at Arthur, the way his nose scrunched at being called anything but a youngling, a spry and prime alpha.

“I’m just sayin’…” John started. Arthur’s hands pulled him in, drawing John to bring a knee up on the outside of the alpha’s lap. “We ain’t those kinds of people.”

“Who said? What, you don’t want me? Is it ‘cause I ain’t a virgin?” Arthur teased, the last word coming drawn and overdone.

John bent over in laughter, one of his hands going for his stomach to not pop an imaginary stitch. His head rested on Arthur’s shoulder, only realizing by his shaking that Arthur was laughing too.

“None of us should be wearin’ white for no occasion. Me especially.” John stood upright again, breathing through the last bouts of laughter through him.

“Look at you, happy already.” Arthur reached up to graze his knuckles along John’s jaw and he purred softly.

“Ya got me, but that doesn’t change nothin’,” John said, trying to return to his hardened demeanor but failing miserably. Arthur started laughing again at his effort.

John let Arthur continue in his revel, his laughter trailing off into an affirmative hum.

“You’d marry me one day, wouldn’t you? If I asked properly?”

John hid the gulp in his throat, a grin growing on his scarred lips. “Ain’t now and it ain’t six months from now, that’s for sure.”

Arthur folded his lips together, offered a tender smirk to hide the struck chord in his chest. Why was he so eager to jump forward anyways? He had all the time in the world to spend with John, no piece of paper or silver bands could ever dispute that.

“You’re funny, Marston,” quipped Arthur, his original smile returning as he pulled John further into his lap. “You should go on the road with that act.” He was playfully nibbling at John’s earlobe, bringing forth a couple of guffaws and unwarranted dirty noises from him.

“Shuddup,” John said, doing his best to lean away from Arthur but failing as the alpha nipped again.

John hid his sneer by taking a sip of his tea, the fragile porcelain held tightly by his fingers it began to tink in protest. Arthur took hold of the cup from John’s hold, making him release it.

He leaned forward and set it back on its cup plate then reached to pet down John’s still unruly hair.

Dutch came along, more so he arrived in his own fashion. Hosea originally promised that the leader wouldn’t join in the excursion, it was meant to be a talk for the three “liquor vendors”.

But here he was, making his note and stench about the parlor with Sean as his riding partner for the day.

Arthur spared Dutch a glance, then leaned in to whisper in John’s ear that he was all but a little man with a menacing shadow. John smiled down at the tea treat in his hand at that.

“So, you’re all a ragtime clan of alphas or is it a whole pack of you?” Catherine asked, sitting back in her chair. She folded her knees closely together, crossing her heel behind the other.

Bringing the teacup to her lips, she eyed which of the men would answer first.

“A few,” said Dutch, wanting to maintain the mystery.

“A mix of sorts,” Hosea added, giving his tea a sip before setting it on the table.

Catherine hummed, setting aside her tea before leaning forward to the parlor table. “I was hoping for a little more time with my liquor vendors, but I guess this’ll do.” She opened a brown box centered in the table, retrieved a deck of blue-back cards then closed the box back with her wrist. “What’s your name then?”

She nodded to Sean, but Dutch took it for his own introduction. “Dutch Van Der Lin—”

“Not you,” she bit quickly, her hand going for Dutch’s chest to lean the man back. “Him. The redhead. My, he’s got emeralds for eyes. What’s your name, son?”

Sean looked to Dutch, who spared a hurt snarl over his shoulder, then Hosea, who led Sean to speak. “Sean, ma’am. Sean MacGuire.”

Catherine took an interest to his name, her mood elevated from interrogative to genuine interest. She raised her brows and turned her head for him to continue.

“MacGuire, huh? An Irishman.” She turned around the room with a cheeky grin, as if everyone was just hearing of the young alpha’s heritage. _She should be so lucky._ John offered a polite smile in return, bringing the tea treat to his lips with a distrustful sniff. _Buttermilk_.

“What are you, Mr. Sean MacGuire?” Catherine began to shuffle the deck of cards between her spindly hands, twisting the cards in accuracy before forcing them together again.

Sean took the moment to puff himself up, bringing his chest forward which made Arthur fold his hand over his eyes in secondhand embarrassment. _This is my brother_. With or without blood, Arthur was unable to escape the tie that he had to Sean.

John took it as a joke, not sparing a glance to Dutch as if the youngling’s act was enough. Even if the leader’s words still stung deep inside, John could at least appreciate that Dutch’s choices of followers after Charles was none too bright.

Actually, even Lenny was smarter than Sean. So it was just Sean. With a bite into the tea treat, John hummed in delight, relaxing his shoulders and lounging back. Arthur looked over his shoulder at his mate, having a good time. Well, a good time what wasn’t Arthur.

He leaned over and opened his mouth for John to let him bite the treat, but the omega elbowed him softly. “You said no, remember?”

“What is it? I thought it was lemon,” Arthur whispered, still weaseling his head over John’s shoulder.

“It’s buttermilk, ya bastard,” John responded in his low hiss, once again gently elbowing his mate away. “You really gonna steal from your own pup?” John stopped suddenly, his eyes quickly turning pitiful as he forced a dramatic frown on his face.

The conversation between Catherine and the youngling alpha fell flat quickly, with Sean starting in on another story about his Da.

Arthur was giddy, loving the enjoyment that John was having, teasing. Really turning back to himself. “I’m sorry,” he began, ducking his head to whisper against John’s pudge of a stomach. “Daddy’ll make sure you get all the buttermilk you want later, but right now he wants Pa’s.”

The alpha gently lurched, his hands going for John’s waist as they started jostling on the couch. John tried to stretch his arms away from Arthur but was no match by the alpha’s reach. He finally grabbed the hanging corner of the buttermilk and popped it into his mouth.

“See,” Arthur muttered after licking the gooey center from his thumb and nudging his nose against John’s ear. “Now was that so hard?”

John scrunched his face, now leaning back against Arthur with half as much force he had. “Yes, yer deprivin’ yer child.”

“I said sorry in advance.” Arthur chuckled lowly, his fingers now gripping on John’s chin. “Ya know, that taste good. I want more.”

An abrupt clearing of Hosea’s throat was enough to cease the two mates from continuing. The parlor was now pin-drop quiet; the lull of Sean’s story being drowned out by Arthur and John whisper-playing in the loveseat.

Catherine practically woke herself back up from Sean’s story by watching the omega stretch his food away from the alpha before the alpha grabbed it anyways. With a hardened glare from Hosea, the two straightened up, with John adjusting his shirt and setting the treat on his lap.

“As I was sayin’, my Da was a hard-workin’ alpha, a man who really wanted to get the sweat on his back everyday…”

Catherine waved Sean to stop his story, “That’s nice dear.” She leaned forward again, setting the cards down on the table then turned her attention to John. “The little omega. What did you say your name was again?”

Her voice was once again syrup, her inquisitive nature returning. John side-eyed Arthur, who gave a quick shrug.

He cleared his throat. “I-I didn’t. My name is John, ma’am.”

“John,” Catherine repeated, sitting up proper and reaching over to grab her tea. “That’s such a nice name. I’m so sorry you couldn’t join me for tea the other day. My servant made a rhubarb pie.” Her mouth stretched wide at the last word, revealing grey-white, even teeth. Sanded down.

“Oh,” John began, “I’m sorry I missed that. It was just that…”

“That I scared you, didn’t I? I apologize. I do tend to come off strong, especially around alphas such as your big and dumb companion here.” She gestured over to Arthur and John felt a twinge of rage rush through him. The tug in his chest cracked harshly in his ribs like a whip.

Now he understood Arthur’s rage to others offending his honor. John rested a hand on Arthur’s knee, rubbed his thumb over the cap.

“Just ‘cause he looks it, doesn’t mean he is.” John stated firmly, the twinge not subsiding. He wasn’t the one for the outbursts to bring people in line. He couldn’t do that to another omega.

Dutch scoffed against his teacup and John finally offered a glance in the leader’s direction when he wasn’t looking. John’s nostrils flared as he felt his chest puff up like any alpha’s. He leaned forward to speak but was stopped by Arthur’s hand clasping over his.

“Be that as it may.” Catherine reigned John’s overall attention with a soft clink of her cup. “There aren’t a lot of omegas in these parts. Well, none as pretty as you, dear.”

John was off-put by the compliment, his hand taking a light squeeze to Arthur’s knee. “Thank you, ma’am? I’m not sure how I should take that.”

Catherine giggled girlishly, setting her cup back on its plate and resting it in her lap. “Take it how you want. I mean no harm in it. The only other omega in this godforsaken town is that unbearable Beau Grey.”

Her amusement went dry with a heavy roll of her eyes, almost aghast at her own bringing up of the rival family.

“That priss, and his father’s no better.” She waved at herself to move on and John looked at Arthur once again, no longer enjoying his time. “Besides the point, I’m sure you have your pickin’ for the alphas. Or are you more of a delta lover?”

John furrowed his brows in confusion, averting his gaze to Arthur, hoping he could shed some light on what she’d just asked. Arthur shrugged once again, disguising his amused grin with a brow quirk of concern.

“No, ma’am. Just Arthur,” John said proudly, announcing Arthur’s name like a trophy buck award.

“I see. The brute, he speaks?” Catherine nodded to Arthur, raising her cup again for a sip.

“Yes ma’am,” Arthur grunted after a soft elbow to his ribs. “Nice to see you again.”

Catherine hummed, looking between the two. “What a close-fitting pair.” She pointed over to Hosea, “he told me he raised you two since you were boys. Who’s the older one again?”

“Arthur,” Hosea said, setting down his empty teacup and reaching for the kettle.

“How old are you, John?” Catherine asked, her voice an intimidating purr.

Arthur’s grin slowly fell, leaning to rest his temple to John’s. “Lie,” he whispered.

“Thirty-four.” John choked out, no longer meeting anyone’s eyes and turning close to Arthur. “What’s wrong?” He whispered.

Arthur didn’t want to alarm John, but Miss Braithwaite’s interrogation into him wasn’t sitting right. His alpha instinct was already rearing from the comment of John’s appearance, but now it felt that Catherine’s eyes prized his mate up again.

“Fake like yer sick, we’ll leave right now,” Arthur said low enough for only John to hear. “I don’t feel right about this.”

John rested his chin to his shoulder, staring into Arthur’s lazuline eyes and noting the quick flash of stern nature behind them. “Okay,” he agreed, not sure if the questioning would ever end.

“Yer older than I ever thought, Marston. You hide it well,” Sean added with a laugh while Dutch narrowed his eyes at the pair.

John sat upright and immediately folded his free hand over his mouth. Arthur straightened himself as well, his arm curling around John’s shoulders.

“Aww, Darlin’, you alright?” Arthur feigned concern in his tone, his brows bowing and knitting together.

John shook his head, puffing his cheeks like it was a state of emergency. Using Arthur’s knee as leverage, John quickly stood up. The alpha followed, his arm still around John’s shoulder before scooping him up.

“I think I should get him back to camp, he might’ve overdone it with the sun.” Arthur’s excuse was terrible, but John still made it work.

“Water,” John managed to croak between his fingers holding back imaginary bile.

“We’ll get you some water, lie you down for a good while,” Arthur said, and by hiding his face in his alpha’s shoulders, John raised a curious brow.

Arthur offered a wink in return, going through the open parlor doors. “Miss Braithwaite, we thank you so much for yer hospitality. We hope to see ya again.”

Before any of the other members could speak up on the matter, Arthur and John were out on the front porch. Dutch’s hardened glare was now turned annoyed by the abrupt exit of his prized boy and John.

Hosea spared a glance to Catherine with a nervous grin and huff of laughter to pad the empty air. “Sorry about that, but-uh-back to business.”

Catherine was still focused on Arthur carrying John out to their horses, leaning her head back to look through the large window.

Arthur pushed John onto Shire then climbed after him, grabbing Old Boy’s rein and clicking his tongue for the steed to follow. John leaned against Arthur’s chest, milking his fake illness until they were further down the long pathway.

John immediately perked up, looking over his shoulder to Arthur. The two started guffawing like hightailing idiots that got away with their first bank job.

“Didn’t know you had it in ya,” John said, reaching back to pat Arthur’s cheek.

“You neither,” Arthur retorted, resting his chin to John’s shoulder. “’Water’.” He repeated with John’s feigned croaking, causing his omega to liven up again.

“And what was it you said, ‘gonna lie him down for a while’.” John attempted at Arthur’s grizzly voice but couldn’t compare to the raw nature of it.

Arthur hummed, nosing his way to John’s ear. “You wanna take me up on that?”

John’s hand clasped on Arthur’s cheek playfully shoved him away. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Yes! I was gone for like...half a day, maybe a whole day? I don't remember anymore, days run together, time is an illusion but I know that this weekend will be a short little hiatus on this story. 
> 
> Not saying I won't be writing down all the ideas, I will be. There just won't be any posts for like four days, but I'm okay. I promise. 
> 
> I don't know what else to say...oh, except 4th of July is cancelled, but regular fireworks explodey day is still on. Stay safe out there. 
> 
> Um, what else...Oh! We love a teasing John and Arthur moment. Boyish behavior between two grown men. Love it.


	25. The Finer Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur make a quick detour on their way back from meeting with Miss Braithwate. Arthur gets a new assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi...  
> Long time, no...read? I've missed this story but more importantly, I've missed you guys and your interactions. Believe me, all weekend, I was just thinking of this story, trying to not consume any other media. I had to think about where I wanted this story to go and I officially have an outline. But will I write it out? No. Why? Because I don't want it to get so dry and monotonous. 
> 
> I already feel like this comeback chapter is rusty, so bare with me. I'm getting back into it, don't worry. WE WILL NOT ABANDON JOHN AND ARTHUR. I REFUSE.

Arthur pulled Shire and Old Boy off of the path, close to the camp. John spared a look at the alpha, watching him dismount and holding his hand out to help him down.

“What’re you doin’?” John asked, not budging from Shire’s saddle.

“Come on, Darlin’. You reek.” Arthur firmly suggested with narrowed eyes. His hat tipped back on his head held a shadow over his eyes and John knew he’d budge first.

With a grunt, John unhitched his leg from over the horse and slid off of the saddle, purposefully pushing away Arthur’s assistance. Arthur didn’t falter, only watched as John pulled off his first shirt then the other and tossed then back at the alpha.

Arthur glared around quickly, then offered a sniff to the air, smelling his ripe omega stripping in the midday sun.

“John,” Arthur began, holding onto his mate’s clothes and following him down to the shore. “Be careful, ya know.”

John wasn’t listening, unbuttoning his pants while he kicked off his boots. Discarding both on the sand, John ran his hands up his neck and bent it to the side to crack it then pulled his hair up.

Arthur followed after John like a sailor being led to his death by a land siren. John waded into the water, hiding his cold-stricken cringe with a deep exhale. While Arthur thought about it, he grabbed the rest of John’s clothes and doubled back to Shire. Digging into his saddle bag, Arthur found a sliver of soap and brought it back as John made it just below waist-deep.

“Damn it, Arthur, this water is fuckin’ freezin’.” John complained when Arthur tossed him the brittle of soap. He started lathering in his hands while his muscles twitched to keep him warm.

“Oh, ya big baby.” Arthur chuckled, sitting down by the shoreline and taking off his hat. He stretched out his legs, pulling his elbows back to rest up.

John narrowed his eyes as he brought one of his legs up, sloshing water between his thighs before scrubbing the thin lather of soap from his hips to his ribs. “And why ain’t you bathin’?”

“’Cause you smell worse than me,” Arthur said. He received a handful of water splashed in his direction. “I love it, but Miss Grimshaw said we ain’t allowed to reek up her camp anymore.”

John grunted again, turning away from Arthur to face the opening of the lake cove. He rose his opposite thigh, then stretched his hands along his back and down, lathering as much skin he could before the soap bar disintegrated under his fingertips. “Bullshit. You smell just like me.”

Arthur sat up further, shaking his head. When John turned away just enough to rinse the soap from his skin, Arthur pulled his shirt away and gave himself a whiff. Maybe he should’ve joined John.

John dipped his head back, letting his hair get wet as Arthur stood up and started to strip.

“We ain’t makin’ this a day thing, alright?” Arthur said firmly, hand folded over his groin to barely hide his dick.

John looked back with a light chuckle faltering at the sight. He looked away again while Arthur waded in, his muscular thighs being enveloped in the clear water.

“Alright,” John replied, combing through his brunet hair before wringing it out. With an attempt to not look back at Arthur again, he cleared his throat. “I ain’t goin’ back to that Braithwate woman.”

Arthur stared at John’s lightly scarred back, the water from his hair slipping down his skin in rivulets. The divets on the small of his back collected water just before separating over the slightly plump cheeks of John’s ass.

He stopped splashing water over his body in a remedial wash, enraptured by John’s thighs and cheeks sloshing along the small laps of water.

“Arthur.” John snapped his fingers, looking over his shoulder to the alpha stopped in his task. “Hey, ya pervert, focus!”

Arthur snapped his head up though his eyes were hard to pull. John splashed water at Arthur, pulling the alpha free of his admiring stare.

“Hey!” Arthur shielded his face with a hand at John, who was splashing him a third time. “What I do?”

John shook his head, turning around and rinsing his body off a second time. “You ain’t heard a word I said, have you?”

Arthur grinned dumbly, sheepishly, reaching his wet hands up to slick back his long chestnut hair. “No, I did.”

“Then what’d I say?” Crossing his arms over his plushy chest, John cocked a brow at his mate.

The alpha couldn’t lie, his grin going wildly idiotic before he chuckled away his embarrassment. “I wasn’t listenin’. But you can’t be standin’ away from me and expect me t’listen.”

John gave Arthur a once over then returned his eyes to the alpha’s waist, “Apparently.”

Arthur’s hand dove into the water, folding his hardened cock to the side. “You ain’t helpin’.”

John chuckled at the alpha’s reddening cheeks, looking away and tried to disguise his intrigue. Wading over to him, John patted the alpha’s hairy cheek.

“It’s okay, big guy. All brawn, no brain,” quipped John.

Arthur sneered, baring an alpha canine and John tilted his head slightly in submission. “Says you, Wolf Man.”

John leaned forward, taking a playful nibble at the skin on Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur let him, taking his hand to pull John’s hair back from his ear. He offered a satisfied growl, which brought slick between John’s thighs.

With a scrunch of his nose, John shoved Arthur away with his elbow. “You ain’t gettin’ me that easy, Morgan.”

Arthur took it as a challenge, grinning after John while he waded out of the water. John tried to dissipate the slick that’d formed as Arthur slicked water from his body and redressed himself.

John followed Arthur out, doing his best to dry off as Arthur sat to pull on his boots. Staring down at his alpha, John’s foot parted between Arthur’s legs. Arthur slowed in his movement, watching John’s sandy foot slip up his pants to the opened buttons barely containing his stiff ache.

“D’ya think I’ll bust yer balls like this?” John asked, his wet toes slowly conforming over Arthur’s heated crotch, the pad of his food pressed against the alpha’s tight balls.

Arthur exhaled lowly, resting back on his forearms with an encouraging hiss. Staring up at John, he sported an entertained grin. The omega’s skin gleamed with a cleaner shine, catching onto the sun rays peeking through the trees.

He’d noticed while staring at John’s bare form that the omega’s chest was retaining a swell. To others unknowing, they could assume the omega was bulking. He looked stronger. Arthur couldn’t deny that, but he also couldn’t deny the sensitivity of them either.

Arthur’s grin went devilish, reminding himself of how his omega cried out at the gentle touch of his nipples, how it brought John to fold his arm over his chest while rubbing against Arthur in want.

His ears pricked at the rustle of nearby footsteps, causing Arthur to sit upright and John to fold his hand over his waist. The alpha sniffed at the air, quickly whistling for Shire and Old Boy to conceal his naked mate.

“Well howdy, cowpoke.” Micah called out from behind Arthur. “John.”

Neither Arthur nor John hid their growls, with Shire crossed in front of John while Old Boy cornered off. The mates shared a glare at Micah approaching.

Arthur pushed off of his feet, adjusting his pants and fastening his pistol to his hip. “What’chu want, Micah?”

“Don’t think yer in the place to talk to us. Already got to Dutch.” John said while he pulled on his pants, then his first thermal.

“What? And pass up this good camping spot?” Micah held a hand out to motion to the peninsula of their camp. “Not bad for such short notice.”

“What’dya want, Micah?” John’s tone was short with pulling on his second thermal and giving his hair another sharp wringing.

“Was just catchin’ the show,” Micah joked. Arthur was quick with drawing his pistol and pointing it at Micah’s face, the growl in his chest no longer suppressed as he bared his teeth.

“Easy, I’m just jokin’. But you gotta keep that omega of yours on a leash, parading around naked in broad daylight.” The blond alpha nodded over to John, who was also snarling and jumping at Micah with a snap of his teeth.

“You got about ten seconds ‘fore I fire into you,” Arthur snapped as well, Shire and Old Boy sidling away with John fastening his gun belt.

“Alright alright. You two are so wound up in each other.” Micah offered with Arthur’s impatient thumb cocking the hammer back. The alpha raised his hands in defense. “Alright! I’ll get on with it.”

John crossed his arms again, smelling the agitation waft off of Arthur. His growl was started to wear into him, forcing his knees together before swatting his mate in the bicep. Arthur grumbled in response, replacing the hammer of his gun and pointing his pistol down.

“I got a lead on a stagecoach. Wanted to run it by you before headin’ to Dutch,” Micah said with an exhale, his stench clearly pointed with intimidation.

“You thick in the head?” John grabbed Arthur’s gun free, pointing it at the crazed blond alpha. “What the hell did we say about conditions? D’you forget what the consequence is?”

Arthur folded a hand before John, keeping him back from Micah as his wild blue eyes sparked with a delirious intent. He quickly turned to his mate, whispered for him to remain calm.

“We play into him a little bit, get him caught up.” Arthur remembered the discussion with Abigail about framing Micah for Dutch.

“I ‘on’t care about savin’ Dutch’s hide no more,” John whispered in return. The anger from the leader’s words suddenly came back to lay weight in the pit of John’s stomach.

“Then for the camp.” Arthur quickly retorted. “For Hosea and Susan.”

John huffed, sparing a glare to Micah before lowering the pistol. “Fuckin’ hell.”

He stepped away, handing the weapon back to Arthur as he hid a frustrated snarl. Picking up Arthur’s hat, he rested it on Shire’s saddle while the two alphas talked about a stagecoach Trelawny spoke up about.

“You and me, we can go get that stagecoach. Without concerning Dutch.” Arthur emphasized; his eyes narrowed at the blond now sporting a chipper grin.

“’Course, brother. No need for aggression, see? We can talk like adults.” Micah dropped his hands finally.

Arthur still snarled, baring his canines to the other alpha. “Whatever. You come up on me or John like that again, I’ll make your hide into a rug.”

Micah chuckled, leaning forward with a taunting ‘ooh’. “Catty today, are we? What? John boy not bearin’ that sweet—”

“You better watch yer next words, Micah. On thin fuckin’ ice.” Arthur barked. “Get outta here.”

Micah’s grin grew. “Fine, see you back at camp, cowpoke.” He quickly mounted his horse and shoved off in a quick trot.

John stood by, arms folded over Old Boy with his head ducked down. He was starting to see red, aggravation seeping deep within him. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he tried to shake free the disgusting stench of Micah.

Arthur rested a hand on John’s shoulder, his growl now switched to a rhythmic purr. His large hand traced down John’s back, letting him take as long he needed to right himself.

John rolled his eyes behind his lids, shrugging a hand down to hold the pudge of his stomach. “I dunno how much longer I can stand it, Arthur. If I see him again, I might kill him.”

Arthur spared a dry chuckle at John’s expense. “Not without me, you aren’t.”

John slowly stood up, turning to his mate and meeting his blue eyes reflecting with the nearby water. “I’m serious. Why’re we keepin’ him alive for the good of the camp? Dutch’s the one they want.”

Arthur quickly clamped a hand over John’s mouth, his fingers heavy and almost curling into John’s scars. “Hush. We ain’t sayin’ things like that out loud.” He stared into John’s dark eyes, how they searched for some sort of answer while his hand was clamped to Arthur’s wrist.

“We don’t have much longer, I promise. I get this done, we got one more job and then we’ll hightail it out of here. You, me, the pup.”

“I’m holdin’ you to that,” John muttered behind his alpha’s meaty hand. If he weren’t any more on edge, he’d find the assertion of Arthur silencing him past endearing. He spared a growl, still forcing his knees together while Arthur’s palm reeked of gunsmoke and heady musk from grabbing himself.

Arthur slowly pulled his hand away with John trailing a bit after like his own personal catnip. “You better. We are gettin’ out of this. No matter what.” He dropped his hand to John’s stomach, giving it a soothing rub. “No matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeaky clean boys with dirty thoughts.  
> I want that made into freakin' merch lol and it'd make no damn sense to anyone. 
> 
> Again, glad to be back. Already working on the next chapter. We will get through this. 
> 
> Love you!


	26. Listen Carefully, for One Fears Repeating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and John return back to camp, they have a talk with Hosea hoping for his insight.  
> John catches onto a secret Abigail has and Dutch comes back with a new hare-brained scheme for quick cash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE. ARE. NOT. TALKING. ABOUT. IT.  
> I don't want to, I'm ashamed of my absence.  
> But at least i haven't abandoned it. I was literally at work, writing on the back of receipts just to get to the next best part.

As soon as the pair returned to camp, Hosea and Sean were close behind their trail. The beta was close to his last nerve by the look on his face, listening to Sean blather on about the old crone omega the entire ride back.

“Sean, son,” Hosea said, his tone paced but well-worn. “I’m begging you for some silence.”

The beta dismounted from Silver Dollar, hitching his steed as Sean sidled his horse next to it.

“That woman sure could talk about nothing. Just her boys and those damned Grays.” Sean added finally, following Hosea’s lead from the horse and into camp.

“I’m surprised you two couldn’t get along in your blathering.” Hosea massaged his brow, making his way to his tent but stopping at Arthur and John sitting at Pearson’s table. “Oh, John. How’re you feeling, son? You left so suddenly.”

John hid an embarrassed grin with the back of his hand, his mouth now full of Pearson’s stew. “’M fine. Just a little nausea, I guess. The ginger really helps.”

He brought his bowl up into Hosea’s line of sight and the beta nodded. Hosea patted John’s shoulder, looking to Arthur. “I thought you were carrying tea for him.”

Arthur shrugged sheepishly, his mouth also full of stew. “I left the canteen here.”

“Well,” Hosea shook his head. “I’m glad you feel better. I don’t know what got into you, but it’s nice for you to be outta your tent.”

John’s grin flattened. Hosea continued, “And I’m sorry about Dutch. The damn alpha has to stick his nose in everything if there’s a hint of gold at the end.”

“Yeah, and he’s always giving his opinion on everythin’,” John muttered with another spoonful of his stew. Even bringing Dutch up put a bad taste in his mouth now.

Arthur nudged John’s boot under the table and John glanced to him. It wasn’t that he’d said anything bad. But Arthur could tell the spiral was beginning again. If they kept on about Dutch, John would be right back in their tent, hissing from the darkness while his mind mulled in the leader’s words.

“It’s just best to let some of his words go in one ear and out the other, son,” Hosea said, his hand squeezing on John’s shoulder.

“Where is the old man, anyways?” Arthur asked with another slurp of his stew.

Hosea released his hold on John, the comfort that the omega needed to keep from going back in Dutch’s words. “Last I saw him, he was still trying to have a chat with Miss Braithwate. That woman did take quite a shine to you, John.”

John hummed in response, finishing off his food before setting his bowl down. “That’s too bad, ‘cause she gives me the chills.”

Arthur heartily agreed behind his bowl, finishing it off with a disgustingly loud slurp. Setting down the dinnerware, he pointed in Hosea’s direction. “Me too. That woman ain’t right.”

“How so?” Hosea asked, quirking a brow.

Arthur leaned forward, a look of bewilderment across his face. “Hosea, you saw her. Twice now she’s been all over John. A ‘pretty omega’ this and a ‘beautiful omega’ that. No offense, darlin’.” He held a hand out, his fingertips grazing John’s bicep.

John disguised his smile with a huff, side-eyeing his mate. “None taken, I guess.”

“What’re you sayin’?” Hosea pulled out a chair for him to sit.

Arthur sat upright, giving John another once over before turning firmly to Hosea with his suspicion. “I think she’s sizin’ John up.”

“For what?” Hosea crossed his arms, sitting back and looking over to his omegan son.

“I dunno. But I don’t like it.” Arthur rested his forearm to the table, his fist clenching and the tendons under his arm twitching into place.

John tried to harden on the idea as Arthur had, crossing his arms below his chest and sitting upright. “I ain’t goin’ over there again.”

Hosea relayed between the two mates, both stubborn and confident in their assessment. “Well, at least you won’t have to. I think we’re just about done here, boys. If we keep sitting about, we’ll just cause trouble again.”

The beta’s voice trailed off into a whisper as he leaned forward against the table. “Hopefully Dutch’ll think so too. It’s about time we kick up some dust.”

Arthur agreed, though he knew him and John probably wouldn’t follow. They were almost ready to turn themselves around, just needed a little more incentive for the alpha about to take the fall: Micah.

John pointed at Hosea, wagging his finger in thought. “That sounds all fine and good, Hosea, but we got some coattails to cut loose soon.”

“What’cha mean?”

Arthur shared another look with John, who nodded languidly. The alpha cut the distance between him and the beta, lowering his voice. “We’re gonna make Micah take the fall as Dutch. It’d kill two birds with one stone.”

Immediately, Hosea shook his head. “I know you don’t like ‘im, but I don’t think it’s worth the risk. The Pinkertons have already seen his face.”

“That was an obvious case of mistaken identity. You put a sign on Micah, coat his mustache with shoe polish, he could pass for Dutch,” John added lowly.

“Even if that were the case, you’d be willin’ to sell out yer own brother?” Hosea looked between the wild pair again, not a glint of remorse in either of their eyes.

“He ain’t my brother, all he is is a pain in my ass.” Arthur sat back with a deep exhale, his hand going to scratch along his ribs.

“Same here. He’s a plum fool, and too wild for us.” John waved his hand out in a huff of dramatics before giving his stomach a calmed rub.

Hosea was quiet, taking in Arthur and John staring at him. Both of them were mirrored down the table, an arm leaned on the surface, a hand along their stomach. Close to in-sync.

 _Synchronization._ They were practically perfect mates aside from their flair for tempers.

“Why are you two bothering yourselves with this? You’ve got bigger things to worry about.” Hosea motioned to John, still looking like he’d finished a good meal.

“We don’t wanna leave you all with that menace,” John whispered, “Next thing you know, he’ll go after the girls.”

Hosea’s brows furrowed together. “What do you mean, he’d go after the girls?”

John deflated from his confident stature, not sparing a look to his mate, knowing he’d discourage sharing. “Before Strawberry, he was threatenin’ to mount me.”

“John…” Hosea began.

The omega shook his head, “We ain’t talkin’ about it. Just don’t want him to turn around on the girls next.”

The beta looked to Arthur, who was quiet now, arms crossed tight before his chest. His jaw was grit tight, the vein leading up the side of his temple was close to throbbing. Arthur’s scent quickly changed with the breeze, suddenly off-putting and raw. Hosea’s nose scrunched in distaste while John tried to not deeply inhale the change.

Hosea didn’t try to bring up the subject to Arthur, only nodded and cleared his throat. “Then we keep him away from the girls. He’s neither of yours concern.”

“Hosea,” John began, sitting up with his hand held to his stomach.

“ _Neither_ of yours concern, John,” Hosea said, standing up from his seat with a final pat to the table. “Behave yourselves.”

Arthur huffed in amusement, looking over to John. “Should be tellin’ him that.”

“How’s yer balls?” John retorted with a quick snap. His eyes went half-mast, giving his alpha a heavy once over and remembering the scent of his hand.

Hosea shook his head and started off to his tent, leaving the mates to their devices.

“Hot and tight. Why, you want ‘em?” Arthur grinned, following John’s sultry stare back. A hand went for the crotch of his pants, adjusting himself with a confident growl.

“Yer disgustin’.” John stood up slowly, his hand cradling his stomach slipping into his pocket.

“You don’t mean that,” Arthur raised his voice after his mate, watching the omega go to talk to Abigail.

“How’s the fancy life been, John?” Abigail asked, sitting about with Tilly and Mary-Beth.

“It ain’t what you think. That Braithwate woman…”

“Is amazing? With that big ole’ house? You think she’s got any alpha sons?” Tilly asked, interrupting John.

“That’s all she has.” John rolled his eyes, his free hand combing through his hair. “I think she’ll take a likin’ to you three. Maybe you should go to tea with her.”

“What, with those inbreds? I’d rather not,” Abigail said, lazily sitting by and pulling back her dark hair from her neck.

“The hell is that?” John asked, his eyes catching onto the red mark just below his friend’s ear.

“What?” Abigail quickly folded her hand over her neck, combing her locks back to hide the offending patch of skin.

John grinned knowingly, lowering his voice as Tilly and Mary-Beth went off to talk more about Miss Braithwate’s alpha sons. “You know what. Who did that, Javier?”

Abgiail gasped, then kicked out her foot for John’s ankle. “John Marston!”

“Oh, so it was Charles? Or Bill?” John joked. “You got yer guessin’ game.”

“Shut up.” Abigail smiled. “It wasn’t none of them.”

“I’d love to hear how you managed to get on with an outsider alpha.” John leaned forward, eyeing the red marks pocking his friend’s neck. “Are those teeth marks?”

Abigail shoved John’s face away. “No, there ain’t nothin’ there.”

John’s nose twitched, taking in his friend’s scent. While it was close to the same, there was a new off-put bite to it. He reached for Abigail’s forearm, tugging her to her feet.

“Come here.” John pulled her away, to the edge of camp. He gave Abigail another heavy whiff, pulling her hair back and eyeing the marks on her neck. “Who is he?”

“There ain’t no one.” Abigail swatted her hand away, struggling to hide the grin on her lips.

“Yer so full of shit,” John said with a huff. “Do I know ‘im?”

Abigail’s face scrunched, a pinched stare at the accusations. “Marston…”

John was quiet, only staring at Abigail and waiting for an answer. Abigail folded, throwing her hands up.

“There ain’t a ‘him’.” Abigail offered, pushing her friend away.

“So, they’re a woman?” John asked, following after the female omega. She wasn’t the kind to bend by others whims, unlike other female omegas.

“And if they are?” Abigail didn’t stop, only trailing her friend back through the camp.

John shrugged, stopping by his tent. “I ain’t one to judge. Did they mark you?”

Abigail slowed in her pace, looking over her shoulder to John, now peering into the darkness of his tent to find his alpha. “If I were, I think I’d be itchin’ to see them like you are.”

“That’s not true,” John began, though his retort lacked backbone. Now, the tug in his chest was worming in excitement, now he had to share this with Arthur.

Abigail crossed her arms, sparing an entertained chuckle and leaning into John’s line of sight. “Yer like a fool searchin’ for gold. I hope I don’t get like that.”

John waved his hand at Abigail’s notion. “That ain’t me.”

“John, you can’t can’t even keep yer eyes on me. I know yer sniffin’ after him.”

It couldn’t be helped. Even without Abigail pointing it out, John’s nose was twitching in the air, catching onto the familiar waft of his mate. The tug in his chest redirected itself in the direction that John assumed he’d find Arthur. _Later._ He pressed a hand to his chest and forced a deep clearing of his throat.

“Are they nice at least?” John asked, bringing the conversation and his attention back to his friend.

Abigail grabbed onto John’s bicep, squeezed it comfortingly. “You are such a worry wart,” she began. Her hand twitched before his stomach then pointed. “Don’t you put a hair outta that pup’s head for my sake.”

John released a deep breath, his palm itching to rub at his stomach again. He wanted to savor it, calm his incessant need to constantly check. What if he did precariously misplace a single hair? Or if he’d moved them too much in a day? His mind was already swimming and they weren’t even kicking.

“They’ll be fine,” he reassured himself and Abigail at the same time.

Abigail spared John a softened look, one that expressed that she didn’t need his concern. “It’s fine. They’re nice.”

“Alright. And you will tell me about it, right?”

“Right.” Abigail’s hand slid down and caught onto John’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “In time.”

John nodded, laying the subject to rest as Abigail let go, circling the camp to Pearson’s tent.

Arthur waited by the water, trying to bide his dwindling sunlight by fishing. It’d been too long since he last went hunting, the only pelts he kept were usually for his nest. Even if it were a couple of bluegills, he’d earn up John’s keep without getting John in a dangerous mix.

John offered help to Pearson for meal prepping, so long as it wasn’t touching animal guts. He’d learned the hard way once before and now the mere thought brought acid in John’s throat.

Dutch rode up by dusk, surprising the camp with his entrance. He hitched The Count and made his way to Pearson’s tent with a boisterous hitch in his step.

“Where have you been?” Hosea and Molly both managed to ask, following the leader alpha to the camp donation box.

Arthur retrieved his fishing pole, folded it and replaced it in his satchel.

“What’re you on?” He asked.

“Nothing, my son. I believe things are really starting to look up from here.” Dutch spoke calmly but his eyes were wild, dodgy. His normally slicked back hair was now coming apart, strands decorating his temples.

Molly threw her hands up in defeat, leaving back to her tent at the lack of attention. Hosea still stood, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the demeanor of his companion.

“How so?” Arthur continued, daring a glance forward to Hosea, who was shaking his head. The beta’s top lip was starting to catch in a sneer.

“That woman, the omega.” Dutch began to gesture at nothing, pointing in the direction that he came from. “She just offered us three thousand dollars to burn down the Grays’ tobacco fields.”

Hosea scoffed, earning a quick snap of Dutch’s attention. The man stared into Hosea’s thin grey eyes, remembering who he was butting heads with.

“That’s dangerous, you’d put not only the boys, but the whole camp at risk.”

Dutch waved a hand, dismissing the beta’s weariness. “It’s good money. What do you think, Arthur?”

The alpha was already shaking his head at Dutch’s turn for approval. His eyes caught onto John ducking into their tent. _It’s the wrong direction we should be going in._

It’d undo a lot of their attempts at progress. And what if they got caught? Or worse. That was the last thing Arthur ever wanted for John, for their pup. For himself.

Ending up in the footsteps of his father.

“Just as Hosea said, it’s reckless, Dutch.” Arthur said with a shrug. “You don’t even know if she’ll pay you for it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Dutch reached into his pocket, produced a large fold of bills. “Half, in cash for good faith.”

Arthur continued searching Dutch’s face, hoping to see a glint of weary. There was none, only adrenalized confidence fueled by the arrogance and greed that was always Dutch. If he asked more about it, the more Dutch would rev before he turned it into a thing they had to do tonight.

Hosea still shook his head. “We don’t need more attention on us, Dutch. We need to lie low.”

“We _need_ money. I ain’t returnin’ it.” Dutch quickly returned the wad of money to his pocket, holding his hand there as if anyone could walk up and snatch it immediately.

“Then see if she wants the Grays’ star ponies or something. We ain’t doing it.” Hosea pointed at the leader alpha. “There’ll be no more drawing attention to us.”

Dutch returned his wild stare to Hosea. “What do you suggest we do, Hosea? Start up a sing and a dance on the road? We need this money.”

“We ain’t sailed off yet, we never will. It’s going back.”

Arthur stood by, hoping to ease the older man down from his wild pipe dream crumbling by Hosea’s stern words.

“You are making a big mistake.”

“It’s already enough for Arthur and Micah to rob a stagecoach. We should’ve been making honest work of ourselves by now.”

Dutch’s shoulders reared up, his body close to double in size as a decrepit growl emerged from his throat. “You must forget who I am. Who we are, Hosea.”

Though the beta’s name was stressed, Dutch was now turning to Arthur as well. “We change under no circumstances, we know who we are.”

At that, Dutch stormed through to his tent. Hosea stepped into Arthur’s view, shaking his head.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Do you want me to keep an eye on him?” offered Arthur, still trying to understand what Dutch meant.

Hosea shook his head, dismissing his son with a wave. “No. You have enough to worry about. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Arthur gave the beta a curt nod then started in the direction of his tent. Hosea turned and raised a finger, remembering something else.

“Oh, Arthur?” The alpha stopped and looked over his shoulder to Hosea. “You be careful with Micah.”

Arthur nodded again then continued to his tent, ducking inside and seeing John kicking off his boots.

John took in a deep inhale, stopping halfway through shedding his shirts as the alpha rested his chin on his shoulder. John couldn’t help the encouraging him as Arthur traced his scarred lips up John’s neck.

In the depth of John’s mind, he remembered the heady smell from Arthur’s hand, reminded himself of the soft, sweet ache between his hips. Arthur tried to accommodate John’s squirming against him, pulling off the omega’s shirt and going for his pants.

John felt weak in the knees, slowly giving into them bending. Arthur followed his mate’s lead, soon undressing to his same level. The sweet slick greeted Arthur’s sense, familiarly dusting his eyes with a lusty haze.

Slick ran down John’s thighs in thick rivulets, coating down to his knees when he pulled his pants past his calves.

In a needy pant, John bent down, presenting to Arthur. The alpha’s throat went dry at the sight, John’s cheeks parting slightly while his blushed folds proudly glistened by lamplight.

“Fuck me,” John lowly urged, the bluntness of his own words sending a shiver through him. His body warming up quickly to the thought of having his alpha again. He’d missed it. He never wanted to forget how Arthur felt.

Arthur abided dazily, still capturing the naughty sight before him. Slick drizzling out of John like a honeypot. His cock throbbed, freeing it from his pants before they slid down to the ground.

He slid his length along John’s hot thighs as he hooked his arm against one of John’s. The omega leveled, raising up on his other arm before Arthur grabbed onto his elbow.

John’s back arched, his hips tilted out as he twitched against the alpha’s thick cock rested against him.

“Arthur,” John found himself mewling, close to begging. His thighs quivered, his ass tweaking close to Arthur’s waist.

The alpha took in the sight, the sound of John close to fully grinding on his dick. With an affirmative grunt, he used his free hand to guided up, into John.

John gasped, his eyes rolling back, wanting to rest his head on Arthur’s shoulder, his mouth fell open in a steady moan. Arthur’s length seemed to give no end, filling John perfectly.

He wanted to plant his hands but was still retained by his mate. Arthur’s free hand grazed up to John’s clit, ignoring it before grabbing at his inner thigh and trying to spread his knees further apart.

He was on John’s neck, milking his scent gland as he started a long drawn out pace, the exact opposite of the relentless speed John deeply craved.

John attempted a growl, a wet pant instead escaping him. “Fuck me, Arthur~”

The alpha chuckled. His hand went to clamp over John’s mouth, fingertips lining his scarred cheek.

“You asked for it,” Arthur whispered in response, sending a heavy chill down John’s back before picking up his pace.

John lost his breath, back already aching from the arch forced upon it. Arthur’s arm kept him suspended at an angle, unable for him to put a hand down and slow down. He released a muffled cry, the alpha rutting hard and fast into him.

The sound was lewd, his dick driving out more slick to puddle on the bedroll. Arthur’s teeth started to itch against John’s skin, feeling the hot puffs of air from his nose against his knuckles.

John tried to falter but Arthur held him tight, causing the slight pudge of John’s stomach to poke out. Arthur started to purr in pride.

He wanted to praise John for carrying, for looking so beautiful doing it. And he would, in due time. To his face, but now it’d only egg him on further, wanting to it to happen twice over.

Instead, the two kept on, with John approaching his edge much quicker. His clit throbbed in neglect, causing him to shift his hips to gain it some attention.

John’s hands braced the ground, trying to hold himself up against his alpha’s chest.

He moaned heavily into Arthur’s palm, his tongue lapping at his skin.

Arthur breathed a low chuckle, slowly releasing his mate’s arms to offer a quick flick to John’s clit.

John’s back rolled, releasing a heavy moan-like whine into his alpha’s hand. His body soon locked while Arthur continued, each pump rolling pleasure across John’s skin.

Arthur returned his teeth to John’s scent gland, now tugging at his mate’s clit until tears started rolling down John’s cheeks.

“Darlin’, you been missing it, haven’t you?” Arthur’s now-slickened hand traveled up John’s lean body to pinch at his mate’s sensitive nipple.

The omega twitched in response, still feeling the rushes of pleasure burning through his back. Arthur pressed John closer to him, allowing his close-spent omega to rest his head. “You’re not giving out on me yet, are you?”

John tried to nod, his back stiffening again as Arthur’s fingers rolled on his nipple. In muffled protests, John tried to get Arthur to stop. His hand reached for the alpha’s thighs, digging his nails into the skin while his chest quaked.

“One more time for me, huh?” Arthur’s hand returned down, pinching and rubbing at John’s clit with such intensity.

Still fucking fully and fast, driving out more rivulets of slick down John’s reddening thighs.

“Please,” John grizzled pitifully, eyes rolled back and starting to see stars in his vision. He couldn’t feel it, so hot and raw all over. The coil would tightly a second time, harsh and prickly on his lower back.

He bared his teeth to Arthur’s palm, grazing his canines to his mate’s skin as he lost his breath again. A biting gasp and tired whine escaped him, his body jerking in response to the overstimulation.

The air was suddenly freezing while John’s well gushed in orgasm. Arthur’s purr landed directly in his ear, lulling forward with an unspoken worship.

“Atta boy.” He grunted with a final thick thrust, firmly securing his length in the exhausted omega’s throbbing walls to be milked.

His knot swelled, securing just in John’s blushed folds. He buried his face in John’s damp neck, riding through his lush orgasm with a gentle rocking of his hips.

John tried to stop the twitch of his body by Arthur’s seed spurting, but it couldn’t be helped. The alpha released his hand from John’s mouth, leaving the omega to take in a heave of air and flop forward with a whiny moan.

“I hate you,” John mumbled, trying to roll his shoulders to ease the ache of his back. Still, he nuzzled comfortably while Arthur still came.

Arthur hummed, folding over John and grabbing over the tops of his hands. He nosed along John’s shoulder blades before trailing a few kisses down the back of his neck.

“But I love ya,” Arthur’s words were soft, making up for his brute behavior seconds before.

“You fuck me like a ragdoll,” John quipped with a tired groan. He couldn’t feel his thighs or between his hips after Arthur’s heavy petting. His elbow also pinched, only noting that he’d have a bruise there soon.

“You told me to fuck you. I don’t _fuck_ lightly, Marston.” Arthur was back in John’s ear, tracing his teeth along the shell before nibbling at his lobe. “I won’t break ya, you know that.”

John turned in Arthur’s direction, his body still blazing. He couldn’t refute anything, he knew it was true. Still catching his breath, John pulled a hand up and combed it through his mate’s long, unruly chestnut hair.

“Mark me, dammit.” He was firm though his body felt reduced to gelatin.

Arthur leaned into John’s hand, reveling in his mate’s fingers raking through his hair. He then froze in his admiration, his teeth poking into his gums.

He wanted to, it was a month too long since John bit him. But he was still defiantly hesitant. What if it didn’t last? Of course it wouldn’t, but it was the symbolism that lasted. After five years, after the fade, would John still feel the same?

His own questioning was ridiculous. The pull in his chest told him so, even now. It was steel straight, invisibly piercing through John’s back to link up with his own pull.

“You really want to be with me?” He asked, though the question was irrelevant. His voice lowered, it wisped against John’s skin.

He scoffed, looking over his shoulder to his alpha, finding a quiet contemplating imitation in his place. “Of course, ya dummy. You think I just have yer pup for fun?”

Arthur raised his head, locking eyes with John’s darknesses with an embarrassed chuckle.

John spared a small laugh. “Alright, it was a little bit of fun. But Arthur,” his normally overworked brow relaxed, staring at his alpha without a mirth or snark to cushion his response. “I do wanna be with you. Even if we didn’t have the pup, even if we weren’t already bonded. I want ya and I want ya to know I mean it.”

He nudged his head to Arthur’s. “Like you and yer marriage, this is my thing. And it’s cheaper than any ring.”

John spared a slight grin, his eyes fluttering closed as he rubbed his temple to Arthur’s. The alpha’s eyes shut as well, returning the gesture softly.

“Hey, Arthur Morgan. Ya big dumb idiot, I want to be with ya. From now until I can’t stand no more. And the day that I won’t, they’ll have to bury me.”

Arthur’s nose nudged to John’s, tracing and memorizing the slight crook in it, the scar across the bridge of it. “That won’t be for a while if I have any say.”

John’s lips curled further, “That’s what I’m hopin’.”

They shared a breath, two, until John reached to rub his thumb against Arthur’s bicep. “Mark me.”

Arthur agreed, pulling back from the gentle nuzzle to press his lips to John’s shoulder. “It’ll hurt.”

John hid a grit of his teeth. _Of course it would._ But anything was better than not displaying that he was Arthur’s. Still, he nodded softly, opening his eyes as Arthur opened his mouth, revealing his sharpened alpha canines.

The omega clenched, reminding him of Arthur’s knot planted firmly in him. There was no going back at this moment. Arthur took a deep breath, knowing that him doing this would hurt him. It went against what he promised to not do.

He lined up his mouth over John’s scent gland, nosing it a bit before finally sinking his teeth around it, pushing in to the soft tissue. John hissed loudly, his hand on Arthur’s bicep clenching.

Arthur tried to not swim or drown on the blood now coating his tongue, just as sweet and complex at John’s scent. He sucked softly, keeping the excess from dripping onto their soiled bedrolls then unclamped his mouth to reveal the half-moon bite now branded on John’s shoulder.

John reached to touch it, the tender skin already enough confirmation. His finger traced over one of the dents, thinking of the canines that just pierced through him. He looked back at Arthur, the corners of his mouth decorated with red smears from blood.

His hand went from Arthur’s bicep to cup his cheek, resting their foreheads together. “Yer stuck with me now, Morgan.”

Arthur grinned, “Goddamn it.” John managed to rear his elbow into Arthur’s ribs as retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying that the next chapter is gonna be angsty, but it might be really long and convoluted and I'm too excited and I can't wait for it and I'm nervous already for it.  
> I'm not saying that this will be the end...I think at one point, I said maybe thirty chapters *maybe?* but it'd definitely gonna be like mid-30s. Unless everyone drops off after this and the next chapter, then I'll just make it to the end of this storyline and be done. 
> 
> That's really fucking morbid, demon, jeez. Sorry, I didn't mean it as like *holds up finger guns* you better love this. 
> 
> I'm sorry if it sounded like that. I just love the boys.


	27. Blessed are the Destroyers of Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, Hosea, and, on the off-hand, Dutch, try to convince Miss Braithwaite of a smaller task. John enjoys a calming moment with the girls and Arthur. And Micah's plan might not be all that up to snuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT. THE MOMENT I'VE ONLY BEEN WAITING FOR. WE'RE GETTING THERE, ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? i DON'T THINK YOU ARE. 
> 
> tHIS SHIT IS ABOUT TO GET 'WILEY COYOTE' LEVELS OF CONVOLUTED AND IF YOU DON'T THINK I'M LOVE EVERY SECOND OF WRITING THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS, YOU ARE WRONG.

The rest of the night was spent with John rested against Arthur while the alpha opened his journal. He casually thumbed through the pages, sitting up slightly as John snoozed against him, his hand twitching along Arthur’s ribs.

The fresh mark on John’s shoulder started to ooze a changing scent, one mixed with Arthur’s woodsy murk that complemented the freshwater so deeply embedded in John’s skin. His mate’s warmth comforted him, like a heavy pelt in the middle of winter.

Arthur reached a hand up and smoothed down the back of John’s hair, his chest starting up with a soft purr that accompanied a contented sigh. The pull in his chest lurched at the sound, John at ease only bringing a warm swell in Arthur.

He felt the security set in, a lock setting in place with John’s own link being the key. Arthur felt himself drift afloat in an atmosphere so close to his body, it felt all as one. Allowing his eyes to flutter slightly, he imagined the bright smile on John’s lips through seasons, never fading against the changing of leaves and heavy snowfalls.

Arthur crossed his other arm around John’s back, holding him closer to his chest before setting the journal aside and shutting off the lamp. The two intertwined, sharing body heat under an elk pelt Arthur gifted.

The next morning, Arthur woke up to the weight of John gone from his chest. With a jolt, he sat up, his mind thoroughly scrambled while he searched for his mate in the tent.

He feared of it being a dream then remembered the mark on his scent gland. Arthur folded forward, a hand massaging at his brow before he stood up and dressed.

Leaving the tent, Arthur found John sitting at Pearson’s table, pulling apart a loaf of bread and sharing it with Charles.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” John said in a teasing manner, raising his cup to his lips for a sip of ginger tea. “How’d you sleep?”

Arthur sheepishly grinned, the inside of his mouth tingling with a blood taste, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just fine, Darlin’. How ‘bout you?”

John managed to speak through another bite of his bread. He followed suit in Arthur’s smile, his cheek stuffed with his breakfast. “Just fine.” He repeated back before finishing his food.

Charles sat by, quietly sipping his coffee before speaking up. “I slept fine too, thanks for asking.”

Arthur tore his eyes from John, an embarrassed chuckle escaping him. “Charles, good morning.”

The well-kept alpha hummed against the lip of his cup with a nod, then set it down. “I heard you and Micah are supposed to robbing a stagecoach soon.”

Rounding the table, Arthur poured himself a cup of coffee then stole a biscuit from Pearson’s wagon. He scoffed dismissively, sitting down hard next to John.

“’Sposed to be. Dunno if the crazy bastard is even keeping up.” Arthur punctuated his sentence with a deep drawl of his coffee, the hot brew shocking his senses awake in a better way.

“And now Dutch wants us to burn the Grays’ tobacco fields,” Charles added.

John stopped in his meal, glaring at Charles then Arthur. The sunlight through the trees beamed against the back of his alpha’s head, giving him a morning glow.

“He wants us to do that?” John asked, mostly to Arthur. “You can’t go through with that.”

Arthur grunted with a bite of his biscuit. “We ain’t. I told him so last night. It’s too risky for that.”

“Doesn’t seem like he listened though, because he asked me and Sean to do it,” stated Charles, pouring out the splash remnants of his coffee cup. “Hosea told us not to.”

“What is up with them?” John asked, raising a brow at the two alphas.

“Lovers’ quarrel,” said Arthur with another bite of his biscuit. He managed to cock his neck to the side to relieve his tense muscles, allowing his mark to breathe fully from his collar. “Dutch is Dutch, and just like the rest of us, Hosea’s starting to see him for who he really is.”

John turned to Arthur again, catching onto the alpha’s scent. His face relaxed, the waft of his mate causing a roll of his eyes. “Poor Hosea.”

“Poor us,” Charles said, tearing off another bit of bread. “We have to listen to the two of them squabble.”

“Yer not gonna go through with the tobacco fields, are you?” John asked, waving his hand when Charles offered the last bit.

Arthur split his biscuit in half and set it before John on the table.

“Absolutely not. Sean says we still should but I can’t really go against Hosea. Beta or not, that man is scarier than Dutch.” Charles pointed over the table to the mates then popped a wad of bread in his mouth.

“Sean’s a pup, he won’t do anything without an alpha keeping an eye on him. Otherwise, he’ll botch the whole thing.”

John spoke up, taking the spare bit of biscuit before him, “Better keep him away from Dutch’s golden boy, Micah.”

Arthur grunted in agreement, baring his teeth with a bitter smack as he reached the grounds of coffee at the bottom of his cup. He tipped the cup over, tapping the remnants away. “I’ll take Hosea around that Braithwaite woman, ask her if there’s anything else we could do since Dutch won’t give up that damned money.”

“As much as it’d be good for the camp, I’m not sure he’d like to share.” Charles spared a dry chuckle. “I’ll come with you.”

“Not a good idea.” John held his hand out, mouth full of biscuit with crumbs flaking free from his lips. “That woman is a freakshow.”

Charles quirked a brow but Arthur shook his head to refrain him from asking any questions.

“Trust us,” said Arthur. “There ain’t nothing about that woman that’s inviting. Hosea and I’ll go.”

Dutch insisted on tagging along to speak with Miss Braithwaite. It was his share of the money after all. The three sat in the parlor, awaiting the omega woman’s entrance while Arthur finally got his share of buttermilk bars.

He stuffed two into his cheeks then unfolded the handkerchief in his satchel to store a few more of John. He’d even take a couple back to Miss Grimshaw, hoping she’d spare a recipe by a taste.

“I just don’t see why we couldn’t do it,” Dutch said in a pout, arms folded tightly across his chest.

“We don’t need to get in anymore trouble,” Hosea said, not sparing a glance to the alpha.

“Gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting,” Braithwaite entered through the dining room, sliding the doors closed behind her and waving for her servant to do the same for the hallway. “Is it finished?”

“About that.” Hosea shifted in his seat to Catherine as the omega woman crossed the room.

She spared a glance over to Arthur then stopped in her tracks. “Mr. Arthur. Where’s your mate?”

Arthur hid a tight grimace with a slosh of his tongue, freeing the buttermilk caked just along his molars. “He’s back at camp.”

“Oh, is he alright?” The woman asked, taking her seat and sitting forward to pour herself a cup of tea.

“He’s fine.” Arthur answered, his patience and answers short.

Miss Braithwaite gestured to the buttermilk bars in the center of the table, next to a full rhubarb pie. “Please, take as much as you want to John. I truly hope he feels better. Our last meeting was so short…”

“Back to your main concern,” Hosea cleared his throat, setting down his teacup while Arthur spared a snide glare at the omega woman. “We have to return your money.”

“Why?” Catherine brought her mug up to her lips. “Whatever for?”

“Yeah, Hosea. What for?” Dutch mocked, still pouting on the edge of the couch.

The beta reached back to swat at the leader alpha’s thigh. “Unfortunately, we don’t need to cause any more trouble.”

Catherine chuckled dryly, taking a sip with her thin lips cusping the rim. “That’s funny. Weren’t you and the big one over there the ones to steal my liquor only to sell it back?”

“Now that, that was a deputy’s duty and we seized the opportunity,” Hosea started to explain before shaking his head. “That’s besides the point. We aren’t doing it.”

Catherine hummed dryly, unconvinced by Hosea’s explanation. “And if I were to refuse the money?”

“Is there something else we could do? Like the Grays horses?”

Braithwaite’s brows quirked in interest. “How many?”

Hosea looked from the woman to Dutch, still pouting and silent, then to Arthur, who was unraveling his handkerchief a second time to pack more milk bars for John. He stopped halfway, with a guilty look to Hosea before sitting back and tying up the cloth.

“Three,” Hosea said with a slightly defeated exhale to follow.

Braithwaite clicked her tongue in distaste, “That’s not worth my time.”

“That’s a thousand dollars per horse,” Hosea said, his tone raising in agitation. “If not that, then what?”

Catherine hummed, sitting forward with her thin lips pursed in thought. “I’m sure we could figure something out? Mr. Van Der Linde, did you have something in mind?”

Dutch huffed, sitting upright and pulling his cigarette jacket taut. He glanced over to Arthur, who was now carefully cutting a slice of rhubarb pie for John, or himself, to eat. “If my sons weren’t rebelling against me, I’d suggest we’d stick to the plan.”

“But we’re not,” Hosea noted with a raise of his finger.

“I’m aware of _that_ , Hosea,” Dutch said with a bite of venom to follow. “If you don’t want the horses, we could steal their tobacco.”

Catherine pondered the idea, then grinned turning to Arthur. “Would that be alright with you?”

Arthur’s mouth was sticky with congealed buttermilk, he reached to pour himself a cup of tea to dissolve the treat. “It ain’t my job, Miss Braithwaite.”

“And a useless one at that,” Hosea added.

“Your opinions are not worthy suggestions,” Catherine bit at the beta man to her left. “I’d like for you to keep quiet until you have something worth my time.”

“Just take the money back,” Hosea retorted, his calm demeanor becoming rigid.

Catherine shook her head, “And why should I? I asked you to do something for me and yet, you refuse me.”

“I don’t refuse,” Dutch said.

“Shut up,” Hosea bit at his comrade. “It won’t happen.”

Braithwaite’s smile grew, a twisted and frail thing painted in faded red. “I’ve got an idea. Those Lemoyne Raiders you see so often through the outskirts? Get rid of them.”

“All of them?” Arthur asked, taking a long sip of tea from the dainty porcelain cup.

“Just the main group. Their leader’s name is Lindsey Wofford. You get rid of him and the entire faction will fall. Do that and I’ll call it even. I’ll even pay you an extra hundred for his body.” Catherine crossed her ankles together, leaning forward to refresh her tea cup.

Arthur stared solely at Hosea, his brows furrowing while they spoke with their eyes. He softly shook his head to which the beta agreed.

“No,” Hosea said.

“Yes,” Dutch spoke up the same time.

Catherine laughed. “My, two sides of a coin, aren’t you two? Figure it out. My next offer is not so simply taken.”

Hosea’s brows furrowed together, frustrated by the roundabout, “What will you ask of us next? What’s worse than that?”

The omegan woman’s laugh turned wretched slowly, her grin returning to a twist of deviancy. “Just accept my offer, gentlemen. It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you.”

“It is,” Hosea offered, holding his hand out for Catherine to shake. “This is our last deal.”

“Fine,” said Miss Braithwaite, taking the beta’s hand with a firm squeeze. “It’s a deal.”

Arthur was first to stand, securing his satchel and donning his hat. “If that’s that, then it was nice to see you again, Miss Braithwaite.”

The woman nodded. “You tell that John not to be a stranger.” She called after Arthur as he opened the parlor doors then made his way to the front porch.

Under his breath, he scoffed. “It’ll never happen, you crazy bitch.”

All the while, the nagging feeling remained. Even now, leaving the manor, Arthur felt a layer of chills on his back that he couldn’t seem to shake. It was good they left the day they did, otherwise Arthur wasn’t sure what Braithwaite’s next move would’ve been.

Returning back to camp, Arthur rushed to find John sitting with the girls by the lake, listening to them talk more about Saint Denis, not too far from here. His hand folded over his stomach, staring across the water while he mindlessly traced his fingers in small circles.

“There you are,” Arthur said, his booming voice cutting through the serene and mind-numbing drawl of the girls. Mary-Beth and Tilly gasped in surprise but John and Abigail merely looked up. The mate beamed at his alpha with a proud grin. “Sorry to startle you ladies. Darlin’.”

“How’d she take the news?” John asked while the other two girls made room for Arthur to sit on the sand. He patted the spot as Abigail sat up on her knees, at John’s other side.

Arthur disguised his grimace with a smirk, sinking down to sit next to John while he opened his satchel. “Not well, I’m afraid. Instead of tobacco fields, she wants us to go after the Lemoyne Raiders.”

“Those fellers riddled in town?” Abigail asked.

“All of them?” John added in, sitting up fully to look his alpha in the eye. “That’s a fool’s errand. She can’t be serious.”

Arthur shrugged. “We tried to talk her into ponies, she wouldn’t take it. She says this’ll be the only thing she’ll ask for.” He reached into his satchel, carefully retrieved the now-smashed tea treats from the Braithwaite Manor. “Here. Got some of that rhubarb pie she was blatherin’ about the other day.”

He set the handkerchief of pie to John, watched him unfold it in his lap. The cloth was decorated in light pink juice, the crust of the woven pie now fallen off. John didn’t hide his sneer, only picked up a large diced piece from the handkerchief and brought it to his nose in a tentative sniff.

“Hope it’s good, I didn’t get to try it,” added Arthur while Abigail’s face scrunched in disapproval.

The smell wasn’t unpleasant, close to a citrus-like strawberry. John was weary of the vegetable, bright red and spongey in feel. He gave Arthur a slight side-eye before forcing the bit into his mouth and biting into it.

Arthur waited for John’s approval, otherwise he’d produce his backup. The omega was quiet, slowly chewing the small bit before swallowing.

“It’s…nasty,” John said with a laugh. He brought his fingers up to cover his lips, hoping that him saying it aloud would bring on morning sickness. “That is awful, even with the strawberries.”

Arthur released a nervous huff of laughter, his hand reaching up to brush back John’s lengthy dark hair. “Sorry to hear that, Darlin’. But don’t you worry, I got somethin’ way better.”

He took away the rhubarb, set it aside before pulling out the stuffed handkerchief of buttermilk bars.

“Now I know you like these. Crazy woman made a whole plate of ‘em.”

John untied the cloth, revealing a smushed stack of buttermilk treats, each of them oozing sweet mixed custard from the sides. His mouth watered, the disgusting taste of the rhubarb quickly dissipating when he grabbed the top bar and forced it fully into his mouth.

Arthur chuckled at that then stretched his legs out before him as he tried the rhubarb pie.

“When do you have to do it by?” Abigail spoke up, to which Arthur and John immediately offered her pieces of desserts. She shook her head. “That’s a lot of Raiders.”

“She says she wants the main leader, a Lindsey Wofford. Dunno why or when, she never said. I’m guessin’ she wants this done before we pick up again.”

“We’re movin’ again?” Mary-Beth cut in, moving in front of the two mates with Tilly to follow.

“I—We ain’t goin’ nowhere, yet. But probably soon.” Arthur said dismissively, knowing he shouldn’t have brought it up at all. Even without looking over to John or Abigail, he could feel their judging glares.

“Where’re we gonna go, Arthur?” Tilly sat up on her knees, wringing at her apron.

“I-I don’t know yet, but don’t you worry about it. It hasn’t happened yet.”

“But it will, soon.” Mary-Beth added, her tone along with her dodgy eyes coming off skittish.

John set his hand on Arthur’s, leaning forward. “We’re just gonna put some good distance between us and those Pinkertons until we can figure some things out.”

“But if you’re gonna take out that Lindsey Wofford, wouldn’t it put us on their map again?” asked Abigail, solely looking to Arthur for an answer.

Arthur shook his head. “Not if we’re smart about it. We are not stayin’ here any longer than we have to. And I’m sorry girls, but you should get started on yer packin’.” He moved to stand, tossing away the pie into the lake.

Arthur pressed his lips to John’s temple and got up, stuffing his soiled handkerchief in his pocket.

“Don’t eat all of them in one sittin’. I want to see if Miss Grimshaw knows a recipe.” He pointed to his mate. “I gotta go find Micah about this damned stagecoach.”

The blond alpha stood on the outskirts of camp, his scout campsite bare except for the company of his horse and Javier. Arthur walked up to the two sitting by the campfire, lazing about.

“Keepin’ yer eyes peeled?” Arthur asked, his voice bringing Javier to jolt in his place.

“Of course, Arthur,” Micah said coolly, rested on his side, plucking at blades of grass like he couldn’t be bothered. “You ready to go?”

“We leavin’ now?” Arthur asked, looking in the way of the camp entrance then back. “Dutch ain’t even back yet.”

“Sure he is.” Micah said, pushing himself to stand. “He told me all ‘bout you, John and Hosea sayin’ not to go through with the Gray’s tobacco fields. Didn’t know a hardass like you could go so soft.”

Arthur lazily sneered, his scarred top lip twitching to reveal a canine. “Ain’t gone soft. It’s too much of a risk when we’re trynna get ahead of this.”

Micah shook his head, tipping back his hat and giving Arthur a once over. “Yer even worse off than I thought. You used to be guns blazin’.”

“I was only that way because we always ended up in a situation we could only shoot our ways out of!” Arthur snapped, leaving Javier to excuse himself from the conversation.

Micah was unreadable, his face not showing a glint of intimidation or agitation. He blinked, his mouth turning up in a twisted smirk. “That’s the only way to have some fun, Morgan!”

He mimicked a few gunshots with his hands drawn up like guns. Arthur stood still, letting the crazed alpha dance around him once before grabbing his shoulder and digging his nails into it.

“Where’s the damned stagecoach? Might as well get it over with.”

Micah’s hand reached out to playfully swat at Arthur’s chest, barely missing the permanent pull planted between the alpha’s pecs. He hid a displeased growl at Micah’s touch, his eyes narrowing.

“Glad you asked, brother. It should be crossing into the Heartlands.” The blond man’s smile was wild, just like the rest of him. A true testament of his personality seeping through to his very teeth.

Arthur’s teeth grit in response, his brow starting to furrow and grow tight. “You failed to mention that this was in the Heartlands! We just left from there, Micah. What good is it for us to go right back?” His shoulders reared up in agitation, his whole chest puffing in a fit.

He wasn’t going through with it. “It’s too risky.”

“Oh, come on, Arthur! It’s easy money,” said Micah, his hands thrown into the air.

“But it don’t sound like yer listenin’ to me. It’s too risky.” The alpha emphasized; his fingers pressed to his thumb to make a point. “We got this one shot, and if someone were to see us, we’d be done for.”

“It ain’t that bad, Morgan. Scout’s honor. We stop them just before they get to Valentine, rob ‘em blind, leave them to run for safety. We just need the money.”

Arthur was still unconvinced, hardened with the idea of this being their time to get caught. “It don’t seem worth it.”

“Hosea has really put his hooks into you, huh? Going against Dutch, doubtin’ every plan?” Micah asked, shaking his head. “This is just enough for us to leave, we don’t need a penny more. Arthur.”

He turned his attention to Micah fully, searching the blond’s crazed blue eyes. “I ain’t gonna beg you. This is our share. It’ll put us right.”

In the back of his mind, Arthur felt the nag of doing right by John. But with Micah’s convincing, it felt skewed. If he went through with it, he wasn’t sure how much of a sure thing it was.

Then again, it’d put them ahead. And like he’d promised John, it was one more job after this and they’d leave.

“Fine,” Arthur said, not entirely swayed but for the good of his future, he’d go through with it.

“Good,” said Micah, clamping his hand onto Arthur’s, prying it from his shoulder. “We should mount up.”

“Okay, lead the way.”

Arthur followed Micah outside of camp, turning left and heading west through Lemoyne.

“Did Dutch tell you about Miss Braithewaite’s other offer?” Arthur offered to pad the monotonous clambering of hooves.

“About those Raiders? That seems worse than the fields,” Micah said, veering from the path by way of a shortcut.

Arthur huffed in response, “It ain’t worse than utter destruction of a small town, Micah. Come on. You and Dutch are so willin’ to set fire to anything and everything for yer way.”

“Is that so, Morgan? And you don’t like that?”

With a soft exhale, Arthur’s lips slowly curled into a smile. “You know, not as much as I used to. And sure, it’s been a short amount a time, but…after John told me he was pregnant, I just started to—”

“Make a change. For a poor unbirthed bastard to two thievin’ outlaws. I’m touched.” Micah’s tone dripped with venom, sarcasm. A bitter change in the air followed as he reared his horse to a trot.

Arthur followed suit, his eyes narrowing at the back of Micah’s head. “Where the hell are we goin? We should’ve been headin’ west.”

Micah turned over his shoulder, offered a wry grin. “Change of plans.”

Arthur barely recognized the words Micah said before a rope was looped around his neck. He reached for it, weaseling a hand into it, before he was forcibly tugged off of his Shire and to the ground. The horse whinnied, rearing on his hind legs while a few men ran out from the thick tree brush to ease it. Arthur lost his breath, releasing a hazardous wheeze while his horse kicked up dust.

The alpha slowly sat up, trying to capture his surroundings after the wind was knocked out of him. From beyond the rally of men fighting Shire to ease was Micah, still boarded on his steed, watching as three men surrounded Arthur.

Their bayonets were inches from the alpha’s face while he tried to pull the rope further from his neck to breathe.

“Micah! Help me, you sack of shit!” He growled at the weaselly alpha, unmoved or unfazed by the men surrounding his brother.

Slowly, the man’s face cut into a contorted grin followed by a whistle. “Shut him up, will ya?”

“What the hell are you doin’, you goddamn trait—” A heavy weight thunked against the back of Arthur’s head, knocking him unconscious.

The fourth man looked to Micah for further instruction.

“Rope him up, take him back. We gotta keep him away for a couple’a days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU DON'T KNOW HOW ABSOLUTELY WRECKED I AM WITH THIS. I AM READY. 
> 
> YOU ALL MIGHT HATE ME FOR THIS.


	28. The Descent is Personal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is concerned for Arthur's whereabouts. Arthur is concerned for John. Dutch is concerned for himself and Micah wants to watch the descent first-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams table in rhythm*   
> MIXED MISSIONS. MIXED MISSIONS. MIXED MISSIONS. 
> 
> This is fourteen pages long. I'm sorry for the long read but I hope it's manageable. If you didn't believe me last chapter, then my writing in this one will definitely prove it. 'WILEY COYOTE' convoluted, or not. I don't really know.

John forced himself to stand up from the sandy banks, leaving Mary-Beth and Tilly to their own conversation about who was going to start packing what. Abigail pushed herself up to her feet, following after her friend as he folded the remaining tea treats back in the handkerchief.

Walking through camp to find Miss Grimshaw, John stopped the woman and offered her the handkerchief.

“Arthur wanted to ask if you knew this recipe.” John offered as explanation, unfolding the remaining bars for the alpha woman to take.

“Buttermilk,” Susan said softly, picking up one of the yellow bars, stuffed with congealed custard. “Sure, I know it.”

John nodded, then spared a few glances around camp. “Speakin’ of Arthur, have you seen him?”

Miss Grimshaw nodded in the direction of the camp entrance, “Last I saw of him was with Micah.”

John exhaled with a light nod. _Of course, the stagecoach._ “Thought he’d at least say goodbye.”

Abigail grabbed onto her friend’s arm. “I think you’d stand to live a minute away from the man.”

“Shuddup,” John said in a retort, hiding a forming lump in his throat.

Surely it was a quick mission, but John felt a bit uneased by the eagerness to leave. And with Micah, no less. He shrugged Abigail’s hand free and started for his tent, only for Dutch to stop in front of it.

John’s mouth unconsciously formed a snarl, twitching to reveal his small yet sharp canines.

“And why weren’t you with us at Miss Braithwaite’s today?” Dutch asked, his brows knitted together cast a shadow over his eyes.

“I don’t like her. Arthur said I didn’t have t’go,” John said, stepping past Dutch and ducking to go inside his tent.

He was stopped by a harsh grasp on his wrist, tightening until he bit back a wince.

“And who the hell is Arthur to say that?” Dutch’s tone was more agitated, on edge.

John looked back at his leader, the crackpot he was, then at the alpha hand gripping his wrist. He carefully snatched it away, held it to his chest while he flexed his fingers.

“My alpha mate,” said John, matter-of-factly. “You didn’t ask me to go, plus I’d rather not spend anymore time with that crone.”

Dutch chuckled darkly. “I thought you and her would’ve had something in common.”

John scoffed. “We are nothing alike. And the fact that you think that way, Dutch, is quite close-minded of ya.” The heel of his palm rubbed at the middle of his chest, a sudden ache in the center of his tug. “Did Arthur say somethin’ to you before he left?”

Dutch stood back, a brow quirking up as his upper lip twitched. “No. Why?”

“I-I don’t know,” he said, dismissing the soreness while his tug whipped anxiously between his pectorals. “It’s nothing.”

John ducked inside, finding Arthur’s hat on his dresser chest. _Odd._ It wasn’t often that Arthur’s hat wasn’t with him, or at least on Shire. He reached for it, only for his sight to go askew with a sudden throbbing pain against his head.

He reached forward to grab at the dresser, miscalculated and knelt to the ground. With a couple hard blinks, John tried to regain his surroundings but with another knock to the head, he toppled over.

“You always did have a hard head, son,” Dutch said when John managed to roll onto his side, seeing the shadow of his leader standing over him before his eyesight gave out.

Arthur slowly woke, or his eyes finally opened, to the bleary vision of three men standing over him. The corners of his vision were dark and he couldn’t keep himself still enough to catch a good enough look of their faces.

“Hey, cowpoke,” a familiar voice spoke, knelt before him and smacking his cheeks. “How ya feelin’?”

“M-Micah,” rasped Arthur, his throat gone dry and irritated for however long he was out.

From what he could tell, the sun was still out, or it was still daylight at least. Or it was daylight again. He tried to sit up, but only felt a sharp pain in his gut.

With a pained wheeze, Arthur was pulled back down by Micah. The blond alpha’s heavy hand squeezed at his shoulder. “Easy now. Don’t wantchu dyin’ on us.”

“Not yet, anyways.” Another voice spoke up, just out of Arthur’s tunneled view.

A force came down on Arthur’s ankle and he roared at the sudden, jolting pain that came after. He tried to move, but the simple shift caused him to lose his sense of direction.

“Hey, she ain’t said nothin’ about maimin’ him.” Micah grunted to the stranger, rolling Arthur back onto his side. “You alright, Morgan?”

“Micah…get me outta here,” Arthur said softly, one of his hands bracing the ground only for his other to follow. He tried to pry them apart, only for them to stay closely tied together.

“Can’t let that happen, Arthur.” Micah shook his head, slowly standing up and bringing the stranger to the alpha next. “Gotta wait for the next move.”

With that, a fist connected with Arthur’s face, effectively knocking him out. When he woke up again, Arthur was on his stomach.

He lost feeling in his arms, staring across the ground to see Micah sitting with the strangers, or new ones, around a fire. The sun was starting to set on the day and Arthur waited for the opportunity to crawl away.

The pain in his gut was now numb and cold while his ankle throbbed. He shifted up to his elbows then faltered back down, his face meeting the dirt. Arthur felt weakness seep through his muscles, giving his body a heavier weight.

Breathing heavily, Arthur tried again on his elbows, waiting for the rest of his body to catch on. He looked down the front of his body, willed his knees to fold under him so he could manage some sort of escape.

He stomached through the enlivened pain in his side and shifted his elbows to turn around.

“So we don’t kill him?” One of the strangers asked.

Micah clicked his tongue. “They said not to. Dunno why. After all of this, you’d think he’d rather be dead.”

Arthur didn’t waste time to listen, still shifting and starting to crawl down the slope until he lost his edge. His elbow slipped in the dirt, causing him to hit his face on the ground.

He managed to cut his lip with his canine and through sucking up his blood, Arthur gave one last rush of energy the college try. Pushing up to his knees, then his feet with a wince at his ankle, the alpha took off in no particular direction.

Everything was still blurry, he limped quickly in his best route downhill.

“He’s runnin’!” One of the strangers yelled while the second ordered for them to shoot.

Arthur couldn’t let that happen. He tried to bob and weave down the hill, make himself a harder target. This was not where he was going to die. He was not going to leave John alone.

 _John._ Arthur gulped dryly, picking up his feet further with the bottom of hill close to an open field of freedom. A few shots rang out from behind him, each of them soaring past him and into the ground.

At the base of the hill, Arthur lost his breath, trying to force his binding apart while still evading the gunfire. Another shot rang out and caught Arthur in the hip, causing the alpha to outwardly growl but persist.

He wavered slightly, the sting of the bullet embedded in his muscle making it harder to move. Arthur limped on until he couldn’t, his vision bleak and the pain in his body more than he could handle.

“J-John,” Arthur said to himself as he took a knee, the strangers racing to catch up to him. “I-I’m…”

“Did I kill ya?” One of the men grabbed a weakened Arthur by the shoulder, watched him flop onto his back with a few pained grunts and swears.

“N-Not yet,” Arthur grit through his blood-stained teeth, his bottom lip swelling.

The second man chuckled, “He said ‘not yet’.”

“But we will,” The first stranger pointed a shotgun in Arthur’s chest.

Arthur didn’t falter, still holding onto the thought of getting back to John. He only accepted the muzzle close to his chest before it shot rock salt into him.

The alpha bucked forward, his teeth cracking under the pain that wracked through him. The wound stung severely, each movement only driving the salt to wriggle into his body.

“Fuck!” He shouted, staving off the imminent feeling of passing out. He wouldn’t do it. Arthur was already lost. The only other person who knew where home was from here was Micah.

“Micah!” Arthur called out, still fighting through the pain and seeping loss of feeling in his body. “Y-you sunuvabitch…”

His voice trailed off, no longer able to fight off the physical anguish. If he lived through this, and he definitely would, Micah would be the first to perish for this.

Arthur’s body gave out, his mind following suit quick like the final flame in a campfire. When he woke up the third time, his chest was still aching.

His breath was ragged and pitiful. He’d lost all sense of feeling in his hands and feet. The cool waters he passed over was so tempting, he could almost drown in it.

John woke up, or he thought he had. The room was dark as he looked around, only to realize the bag over his head. His hands reached out to pull it free, only to find them restrained.

Harsh rope bit into his skin, keeping his wrists to a long curvy pole.

“Hello?” John asked wildly, his legs curling up and under him. “Who’s out there?”

He wasn’t sure of his surroundings except for the conforming comfort beneath him. A bed, with a pillow behind him, cradling his back. With a grimace, John bowed his head forward, attempting to shake the bag from his head.

He leaned forward further, placed his head between his knees and managed the burlap off of him. John sat back with a gulp of fresh air, his eyes boggling to his surroundings before taking them in.

The window before him showed the sun setting, and the beams danced across the hardwood floor and the area rug. John looked to the wallpapered walls, dainty flowers spaced in a grid-like pattern.

The bed below him was decorated in the same pattern, a fluffy heavy blanket folded just at the head of the bed. The poles came together at the top to form a canopy, one adored with striped curtains.

John slipped his legs over the edge of the bed, tried to loosen the knot in his binding but had no luck. He looked to his belt, found it missing from his waist.

“Fuck,” John whispered, looking around the rest of the room to make sure no one else was around. He didn’t even know who to expect, but he didn’t intend to stay long.

Using his kneecap, he nudged at the nightstand drawer, hoping for a pair of scissors. No such luck. He leaned back, looking into the open doorway just beyond the nightstand and found the bathroom.

In the sink, fanned open, was a straight razor. Exactly what John needed. But how was he going to get to it while being tied up?

While having that thought, the bedroom door, on the opposite side of the bed, opened and John ducked behind the bed. A man, dressed in a pressed suit, came in holding a tray.

He narrowed his eyes at the stranger, watching as he set the tray on the unoccupied bedside then folded the tea towel, draped on his forearm, next to it. John’s eyes stared across the comforter, waiting for the man to leave but getting a good look at him.

He seemed familiar and he smelled of a gamma. Though it was hard to determine from the heavily perfumed musk of an omega, and the retched stench of two alphas.

“Hey, you,” John whispered over the lip of the bed.

“Mr. John. We weren’t expecting you awake for a while,” the gamma said, curtly bowing.

“We? Who’s we?” John asked, still not standing up. He narrowed his eyes at the man, tried to piece together where he’d seen him from.

“Miss Braithwaite and her sons.” The servant stood upright, kept his eyes low, focused on the bedspread.

John tried to take the name with a grain of salt, but his stomach flipped into knots. His throat went dry and he bundled his fists together to keep them from shaking. It wasn’t terror, it was the unbridled rage that started bubbling inside of him, attempting to recognize the signs that this would happen.

“I’ll leave you now and tell Miss Braithwaite you’re awake.” The gamma took a step backwards, ready to turn and leave the room but John urged him to wait.

“W-Where’s Arthur?” It was a stupid question, but if he were here, he felt that Arthur had to know by now. “How long I been out?”

The gamma stopped again, his eyes slowly dragging up from the bedspread to catch onto the omega’s dark eyes peering over the edge of the bed. He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders back.

“It’s been a day since you’ve arrived. I’m sure you were tired,” he said monotonously, his face giving away no indication of remorse or pity. “I’m unsure of the alpha, but I’m sure Miss Braithwaite will speak to you soon.”

John pressed his mouth to the side of the bed to hide his agitated snarl. “C-Can you loosen these ropes at least? I have to piss.”

The gamma was unwavering, staring at John until he walked around the end of the bed. John’s bunched shoulders began to relax, only to freeze as the gamma set aside a porcelain pot.

“Unfortunately, it isn’t up to me for your bindings, sir.” The gamma gave another quick nod. “Miss Braithwaite will be up shortly.”

With that, John watched the gamma leave then looked down to the white porcelain next to him. It was good enough. Using his foot, John quickly kicked the pot under the bed, up to the headboard, and heard it shatter. With a soft wince, John waited for someone to come bounding up the steps.

When no one came, he exhaled in relief, his foot scrambling under the bed to retrieve a big enough shard that was also sharp to cut through rope. John could only hope that Arthur was alright. He tried to look under the bed for the shards, elongating his body to scrape together as many pieces of the pot together

John hissed lowly, extending his arms past the point of discomfort just to get the last bit. He pulled back with the cross of his legs then examined each of the pieces before bending forward to grab one in his mouth.

He heard the careful clacking of footsteps ascending the stairs while on the floor. John swore under his breath then threw the piece up onto the bed and scrambled to his feet to hide it.

“John,” Catherine’s voice was light and inquisitive as she creaked open the door. John managed to sit back on the bed, hiding the shard under the pillow. “You’re awake.”

John’s throat burned at the sight of the woman, still as unbecoming as the last time he saw her. The omega in him wanted to lurch at her, tackle her to the floor and snap her neck. To ever think that attacking ended well for her. He wanted to so badly rub at his stomach, worry about his pup but now he couldn’t even soothe himself by that.

“Where the fuck is Arthur? Why am I here?” John reared up on his knees, his hands gripping at his rope while he tugged wildly. His chest started in a defensive growl, his mouth opening and his small canines growing sharper.

“Easy now,” Catherine began with a soothing coo. She grabbed the silver tray and moved it from the bed then held her hand out to caress John’s cheek.

He snatched his face away, thought about biting off a finger. That wasn’t hers to do, it was only Arthur who could soothe him.

“Where is he?” John found himself standing on the bed, his bunched shoulders rolling forward while his tongue folded back in his mouth. “Why am I here?”

He tried to use his frustration to pull himself free, only wringing the rope further into his skin.

“Johnathan,” Catherine’s soothing voice soon went even. “That’s enough of this nonsense. You are here because you belong here.”

John seethed, hissing and growling an offensive sound. Still, the matriarch was unrattled.

“When was the last time you had a nice warm bed? Clean clothes? What about a hot bath?” Catherine asked, ducking slightly to catch John’s off-putting glare. “Has your _Arthur_ provided any of that for you?”

John didn’t answer, his lips now twitching while drool pooled at the bottom of his mouth. Arthur was working on it, he knew that the change was coming. He didn’t ask for any of it though because he was comfortable with just what Arthur could provide.

“I don’t need none of that!” John ferally tugged at his ropes then lurched for the binds, trying to find an end to them while scraping his teeth against his skin.

“Hey!” Catherine clapped at him like a disobeying puppy. “You stop this right this instant, Johnathan.”

“My name is John, you crazy old bat!” John snapped at the woman again. “Now get me out of here!”

Catherine was taken aback, folding her arms before her chest. “I will do no such thing. You belong here.”

John grumbled, then continued in his task while the woman was present. If she watched him leave, there would be no need for violence.

“You’ll be a fine addition to the family, John. My son, Bartholomew, will just love you.”

John froze in his task, his eyelids flitting in disbelief. “Yer son? I ain’t goin’ to no one’s son, ‘specially not yers!” He resumed in his animalistic escape, trying to stomach his frustration enough to think clearly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I bought your dowry.” Catherine smiled, her usually twisted things showing the deepened rivets in the corners of her mouth.

John didn’t listen, didn’t bother to belief anything else. “Yer crazy. I’m gettin’ out of here.”

“And go back to what? The leader that sold you? Your _Arthur_ won’t be there.”

“Stop talkin’ to me. I ain’t gonna believe you.” John’s wrists were now marked with red, the rope cutting further into his teeth scrapes and making it sore to move.

He slowly reeled back, his brows furrowing while tears finally threatened his eyes. No, he wouldn’t cry. John was going to be stronger than that.

He sank to the bed, balled his hands into fists again. The tug in his chest was unrecognizable, so loosely pulled that he wouldn’t even know how to begin to acknowledge Arthur’s mood.

John never thought of how badly he depended on it, how irritatingly his palms itched. He wanted to curl into himself, coddle his belly. He had to be strong though.

Catherine reached out to pull his hair behind his ear. “Honey, this is what’s best for you. You think that man of yours could’ve ever given you something like this?”

John hated that she was talking about Arthur in the past tense. At all, really. “He’s still trying. You don’t know him. And you don’t know me!”

He lunged at Catherine, only to be caught right before her face. John bared his teeth, snapped at her once, twice, tried to nip at her nose at least. “You lay a hand on him and I’ll kill you!”

Catherine flinched backwards, staring at John’s wild face. The drool seeping from the corners of his mouth, his omegan canines at their full sharpened length. His nose was scrunched while his dark eyes lit up with the intent to maim.

“I’ll leave you to work this out,” Catherine said, going to leave the room but stopping. “Oh, before I forget.” She ducked out of the room and came back just as quick, producing a leather-bound book.

She tossed it onto the bed, the ravel around it coming undone and it opening to a random page. John spared a glance at it, only to double take and lean towards it. He recognized the handwriting, the book itself. _Arthur_.

He suddenly bit at the tip of his tongue to hold back the sting of his eyes. “Where is he?” John asked again, less aggressive while his eyes scanned over his mate’s once-private thoughts.

He looked up at Catherine, only to find her gone with the door closed. John shed a tear then bit it with an upward shrug of his shoulder.

He’d get out of here, he didn’t have time to cry. John kicked away the pillow and found the shard of porcelain. Managing to grab it, John shoved the piece between his wrists and started to saw through the roughness of the rope.

Arthur woke up at the creak of a door opening, his vision gone fully inverted. The pounding of his head was accompanied by the tense pain of blood rushing to his jaw. He felt like he was going to be sick.

His hands hung below him, or above him at this point, and at the light that was slowly brought into the room, his vision warbled.

“Hey there, Morgan,” Micah said, holding the lantern down into the alpha’s face. “You look shitty.”

“M-Micah,” Arthur began, his throat raw and scratchy. He couldn’t muster enough spit to sate it. He rasped at the weight of his own body over his lungs, tried to remain calm.

“How’s the flesh wound?” The blonde asked, his free hand going for Arthur’s wounded side and giving it a squeeze, drawing fresh blood out of it and causing the alpha to breathe through a pained grunt. His chest heaved, reminding him of the rock salt peppered into his body.

“Barely feel it,” he lied, his eyelids lulling heavily.

“You just might.” Micah clicked his tongue, gave Arthur a half-turn. “Didn’t see an exit wound. I just know it’s gonna be a bitch to wriggle out.”

Arthur coughed, trying to ease his head up to stop the rush of blood.

“Anyways, I’m sorry ‘bout it. We was told not to hurt you, but you must’ve pissed off some of those Raiders.” Micah walked around the wounded alpha, watched Arthur try to wiggle his way up to ease the pain in his body. He shoved his boot into Arthur’s side, let him swing about while he writhed in his pain.

“L-let me go, Micah.” Arthur was in no mood or stance to fight. In truth, he was beyond tired.

“Can’t do that yet, cowpoke.” Micah pulled up a chair behind Arthur and poked his boot out to push the alpha again. “Not until they’re long gone.”

“W-who?” Arthur asked, working through the oncoming nausea of an uncontrollable sway.

Sitting down, the blonde sat up excitedly. “Oh right, Dutch didn’t tell you. His right-hand man.”

Micah was suddenly circling an arm around Arthur’s neck, holding him close. “He struck up a downright nasty deal for your little mate. That Catherine Braithwaite sure took a shine to him.”

Arthur dizzily tried to follow Micah’s words, though by the blond’s squeeze, he wasn’t sure if he’d stay conscious.

“Ya-yer lyin’,” Arthur managed to say, cocking his head up to look at Micah’s chin.

Micah chuckled. “I wish I was, but Dutch saw an opportunity. Crazy as it was, I’m sure that alpha’ll kill John before they even fuck but…two birds, one stone.”

Arthur felt a sharpness of electricity liven his body. His chest doubled with a low growl as his hands went for Micah’s shoulder. He pulled the alpha in, seeing nothing but red as his mouth lunged at soft skin.

Micah gurgled, his hands reaching to pry Arthur’s hold from him while Arthur chewed through his throat. The blood dripped down into his eyes, through his hair and onto the ground below him.

The blond choked on himself, his blood seeping up and through his mouth when Arthur finally let him go. The red quickly dissipated from his view, only leaving his eyelids heavy with blood droplets.

On the floor, Micah weakly scrambled for the stairs, still holding onto his throat while a trail of blood followed him. Arthur took the adrenaline in his body as opportunity to find a way out. Looking around the dark room, he noticed a distinct shine on the table.

With a slight wiggle, he swayed himself away from the table then back to swipe the knife. In his next motion, Arthur crunched up, cutting the rope holding up upside down.

He fell, hard, onto his back with a loud wince to follow. Though he couldn’t stop now, Arthur slowly rose to his feet and went to heat up the knife to cauterize the bullet wound in his side while he dug for the bullet.

A hand gripped the table, his teeth gritting together harshly and he forced the hot blade into his wound. Though it bled, burned inside, he couldn’t think about it.

He needed to find John. The pain would take a backseat while his mind was only focused on finding his omega. Arthur grabbed a shotgun slug from the table and pulled it open, pouring it over the entrance of his wound then grabbed the fire to solder it closed.

He called out in pain, throwing the candle to the floor and slowly standing up. Arthur went to Micah, way past saving, and started rummaging through the man’s pockets. He found a few throwing knives. They’d have to come in handy.

“D-Don’t…leave…me…” Micah choked out with his gravelly breaths.

Arthur grabbed onto the alpha’s shoulder, started up the stairs. “Say a word and I’ll leave ya.” He whispered, throwing the cellar door open and glancing around.

With the coast mostly clear, Arthur managed to drag Micah’s heavy body up and across the dark field. He stopped to take a breath, the lack of lights disorienting to him.

“W-where’re my guns?” He asked in a few gulps of air to his dead comrade. Staring down at Micah’s eyes gone listless, Arthur growled lowly.

He’d have to go at it alone then. Arthur took grip of Micah’s shoulder, dragged him through the shadows of the Lemoyne hideout before he found a chest of weapons stashed behind the stables.

Arthur rummaged through the lot carefully, retrieving all of his weapons and even his satchel though it felt light. He peered around the side of the stable, saw Shire hitched to the side.

“C’mon boy,” he whispered, clicking for his horse to near him.

Arthur used the remainder of his upper strength putting Micah over the back of Shire and climbing on himself.

He gripped at the rein, reared his horse with a soft clicking. “Get me home, boy.”

John hadn’t realized he fell asleep until he felt a weight against him. With a grunt, he brought his knee up, tried to free the heaviness from him.

“Yer as pretty as Ma said,” a voice spoke into him, rattled him to open his eyes.

“Get offa me!” John kicked up immediately, his knee going for the stranger’s jaw. He scooted himself up, lunged at the strange man with intimidation. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

The stranger snarled, holding onto his jaw with low hiss. “She didn’t tell me what a bitch you were.” A hand went for John’s hair, gripping it tight and jerking him forward. “What gives a dumb little omega that right?”

John forced his legs at the stranger’s chest, fluttering his kicks to keep him further away as his grip grew tighter in John’s locks.

“Fuck you!” John spat, managing to sit up long enough to hock a loogie in the man’s face.

The stranger jerked harder, his growl louder. “Dirty bitch!” His hand rolled in John’s hair, attempting to twist the man’s neck for disobedience. “Why don’t you spread your pretty legs, make up for it?”

John floundered angrily, shaking his head free of the man’s grip and shrinking himself back to his binding. “Eat shit.”

The stranger grinned, an evil descendant of Catherine’s twisted one. He reached for his waistband, produced a knife. John’s eyes focused on the opportunity but kept his distance.

“You think you can act this way? After my Mama paid for you?” The stranger grabbed John’s throat, pulled him close as he cut away the collar of John’s shirt. “Won’t be that way after I mark you.”

John couldn’t disguise the chuckle, the downright deranged laughter that escaped him. The stranger’s grey eyes searched John’s face for an answer but found it from the now exposed scent gland.

“Don’t I reek of him? My mate?” John taunted, biting into the stranger’s face with a hiss. “Mark me, see what happens.”

The stranger raised his brows, his smile never faltering. “Oh dear. Ma must’ve not told you.”

John didn’t answer, only watched as the stranger reached into his pocket and produced a photograph: Arthur, lying on his back, chest speckled with buckshot.

“Your alpha, your _mate_ , is dead.” The stranger was in his ear now, his own taunt seeping through John’s core.

 _No._ John refused to acknowledge it, he refused to accept it as truth. The more he stared at the photograph, the further away the subject felt. This man wasn’t his Arthur, this man wasn’t his alpha.

Arthur returned to camp, barely dismounting from his horse on his feet. “Dutch!”

He grabbed at Micah’s lifeless body and shoved him to the ground then started in the direction of Dutch’s tent. “Dutch!”

His voice sounded slurred and he was struggling to keep breath in his lungs. “Get out here!”

“Arthur?” Abigail stood up from her tent with Sadie following after her.

Tilly and Mary-Beth followed suit, picking up their feet as they made their way over to the wounded alpha. “What’s wrong?”

Susan caught up with her girls, only to stop short of the dark shadow just beside Arthur’s horse. “Arthur, what is that?”

“Dutch!” Arthur was on a one-track mind, his body struggling to keep him upright. “Where’s John?”

“John?” Abigail asked, pushing to the front of the girls. “What do you mean?”

“A-Abigail.” Arthur’s meaty hand went for the omega’s shoulder. “Where’s John?”

“We ain’t seen him, Arthur,” Susan said softly as Hosea and Dutch slowly approached the commotion.

“What’s the problem here?” Hosea asked, stopping in his gait at the sight of his alpha son. “Arthur?”

“Arthur.” Dutch was next, going to Arthur’s side and prying him away from Abigail.

The worn-out alpha took a swing behind him, catching the side of Dutch’s face with his knuckles.

“Arthur!” Most of the group was quick to chastise as Arthur stumbled in a turnaround.

He stared down at Dutch, caught off-guard and gripping his cheek. Arthur’s chest lazily puffed up, his growl a quick buildup as he bared his teeth.

“Where’s John, Dutch?” Arthur’s voice was top-volume, accusatory. “Where’s my goddamn mate?”

“H-he doesn’t know, Arthur,” Hosea began, but Arthur held a hand out to stop him.

Slowly, Arthur sank to a knee, reaching out to grab his alpha leader’s throat. “He knows. H-he…he sold him to Braithwaite.”

“Yer lyin’,” John forced out, his throat suddenly closing up. The tears from earlier began to well up again and he wanted to shake.

“Aww,” the stranger soothed, his thumb reaching to smooth over John’s scarred cheek. “It’s okay, I’ll be here for ya.”

John’s eyelids half-blinked, the disbelief and the deception too much for the moment. He leaned in his head to rest on the stranger’s shoulder, not at all ready to accept defeat.

“That’s right, you got me now.”

John took the moment as his advantage, pulling free the porcelain from his wrist and reeling back to put it in his teeth. In another swipe, John managed to stab the stranger in the side of his neck.

“What do you mean he sold him to Braithwaite?” Hosea asked with Bill and Javier now convening to pull Arthur off of Dutch. The beta stepped between the two, stared down at his leader now holding his throat. “What did you do, Dutch?”

Dutch caught his breath, massaging his throat while his eyes were trained on the injured alpha being held back by now three others and still fighting. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“T-that’s not what Micah told me,” Arthur added, now reaching for his mouth to find that the blond’s blood was now dry. “Before I ate his throat.”

Dutch was quick to stand. “You didn’t.”

The adrenaline was going into overdrive, bringing down the pain in Arthur’s body as he pushed forward between Javier, Bill and Charles. “They tried to kill me…and you sold the father of my child to Catherine Braithwaite!”

The rest of the group stood silently, watching Dutch slowly turn to stone. His lack of response, of denial, was more than solid. Susan slowly folded a hand over her mouth while Abigail tried to rush for Dutch except she was caught by Sadie.

“You’re a monster!” Tilly exclaimed, folding behind her alpha mother.

Mary-Beth and Karen did the same, turning away from the leader. Hosea’s face slowly went placid, then contorted in an indescribable pain. His eyes glistened with the moonlight, giving his companion a once over then another.

“What is the matter with you?” He finally asked, his bottom lip quivering and one eyelid twitching tears free.

“Hosea, you’ve gotta understand,” Dutch began, his look going from his beta to the rest of the camp. “This was gonna set us sailing to Tahiti.”

“Goddamn your Tahiti, Dutch! You sold your son!” Hosea bit, with some of the camp members slowly backing away.

The exiling continued, with the alphas letting Arthur free by the snatching of his own elbow.

“I’m going to get him,” Arthur said, backing towards his camp. “And this right here? It’s finished.”

The stranger angrily grabbed the glass sticking from his neck, dropping the photograph to the floor while the knife slipped from his hold.

John forced his knee up, catching the stranger’s neck and forcing him down to the bed then used his other to jam the porcelain further into the soft skin. Blood sprayed out from the driven force, painting the omega’s face with warm red.

His knee forced down further while the stranger squirmed, reaching to scrape at John’s stomach and sides. Red slowly clouded John’s vision as he drove the shard in further, more spray to follow until the stranger eventually stopped moving.

Hurriedly, John used his boot to kick the knife across the comforter. He climbed off of the dead man and reached with his ankle for the weapon. With a stretch, John caught onto it and brought it closer, up to the top of the bed until he could reach it with his mouth.

The man’s body slid from the bed with a heavy thunk as John forced the knife between his hands. He held it between his palms, sawed at the rope until it gave enough for him to break away.

John pulled back harshly, falling to the floor and on top of the dead stranger. With rage still fueling through him, John stabbed at the stranger’s chest over and over, until gushes of blood painted over his face and body.

“My alpha’s not as dead as you are,” he hissed, leaning in to stare into the stranger’s dull grey eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SAY IT WITH ME, ESTEEMED GUESTS. 
> 
> FERAL IS PRIME.


	29. Kill For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur packs up his things and rallies his own gang to save John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a nice culmination of frustration and pain on John's account. That's just me. 
> 
> I'm sorry if you don't think so, if you think it's too abrupt or too short and nowhere near the mission.

Arthur rushed into his tent, spared no time opening his dresser chest and stuffing everything he could into it. There was no better time to leave than right now, right after he saved John.

“Arthur, son,” Hosea began, ducking into the tent after the wounded alpha. “You should take a breath.”

“I can’t stop now, Hosea,” Arthur said, his body still rushing with the heavy pounding of adrenaline. The salt in his chest and the wound in his side barely recognized as bee stings at this point. “They’ve got John. They’ve got…”

He didn’t bother to reiterate what he wanted to say, his hands forcing their bedrolls into his dresser then pushing the lid closed. If anything were to happen to either of them, Arthur knew he’d be far past a bad man.

The tips of his fingers tingled with a final push, shutting the chest firmly. “We’re done here.”

Arthur managed to pick up the chest, only for Hosea to stop him and ease it out of the alpha’s hold. “Let’s get our boy back, then we’ll worry about leaving.”

He shook his head at his beta father-figure. “I can’t do that, Hosea. This is it.”

If he and John didn’t leave now, the pursuit for them would be severe. It hadn’t fully sunk in that Micah was dead and Dutch let him go to what could’ve been his death. What he was aware of was Dutch’s greed, how the man could look at someone he raised from a child and trade him in for a pipe dream.

Arthur roared, picking up his chest again and storming out of the tent, making his way to Shire. Susan and the girls stood back, watched the close to feral alpha tie his chest to the sturdy workhorse’s side saddle.

“Who’s riding with me?” Arthur asked, a demanding growl in his tone. Looking around, he found no takers on his rescue.

“I’m comin’ with ya,” Hosea spoke up, walking over to Silverdollar and mounting the steed.

“I’ll come too,” Charles added.

Sean and Lenny offered to ride as well with Arthur rearing Shire to the camp entrance.

“I want everyone to pack up camp now,” Hosea ordered, pointing to Susan. “Miss Grimshaw, you’re in charge while we’re gone. Make sure that menace,” he gestured over to Dutch, who was standing silently, staring down at Micah’s lifeless body. “Doesn’t go anywhere.”

Susan nodded, walking up to Arthur’s horse. She rested a hand on the alpha’s calf. “It’s gonna be okay, Arthur.”

While he wanted to believe her, Arthur couldn’t think complacently. His skin was becoming hot to the touch and he wasn’t ready to slow down. He gave the alpha woman a curt nod then clicked his tongue at Shire.

Arthur kicked his spurs into the horse, making him pick up into a trot before rushing out of the camp and onto the path to Braithwaite Manor.

John swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to not taste the warm blood on his lips. He pulled the rest of the rope from his body then shoved the dead man under the bed. With a grunt, John pushed to his feet and went to the bathroom to retrieve the straight razor.

Another weapon never hurt, at least until he found his gun belt. Without a gun in it, John remembered. Goddamned Arthur.

He kept the swear to himself, because Arthur didn’t deserve it.

The sound of footsteps echoed up the staircase, reminding John he didn’t have time to spare. He quickly returned to the bedroom, ducked under the bed next to the fresh corpse as the door opened.

“Bart?” Another stranger asked, their boots stopping short in the room.

John held his shaky breath, unfolded the straight razor in his hand. The stranger’s steps were careful, cautious as he walked into the room. He noted the red smear on the edge of the bed, the spray across the curtains and the lack of a bound omega on the bed.

“Where the hell…?” The man stopped on the opposite side of the bed, noting the pool of blood there. He looked in the bathroom, noticed the bloody handprints on the sink. His blood ran cold before he knelt to look under the bed.

John swiped out like a feral cat, slicing the stranger’s face with the straight razor twice over the bridge of his nose before kicking his foot out. The stranger scrambled on the floor, holding his face as blood dripped down his face.

His eye was stinging, burning, not knowing that it was no longer whole. John retrieved the knife next, grabbed the man by his ankle and pulled him back.

“No,” The stranger’s hands went up as John swiped again, cutting up the man’s palms. “Please! Ma!”

John bared his teeth in a wild snarl. “Yer mama ain’t gonna save you. Imma string her up by her toes and set her on fire!” It was no longer agitation, intimidation or anger in the pit of John. No, what cradled the safety of his pup and the future of Arthur was pure, unbridled rage.

He wanted to see blood. John knelt down over the man, drove the knife between his ribs and up, jerking the sharp weapon wildly as the stranger gurgled and coughed up crimson.

John released a terror-fueling screech, more intimidating than any growl he’d managed before. This was a new feeling. It enlivened him, made him see heat rather than faces. The smell of blood was planted deeply into his nostrils, switching off his compassion and pressing the adrenaline of his instinct.

The man’s eyes went wide and quickly cold, his last breath rattled under the blood pooling in the back of his throat.

John growled, reaching for his face again to rub the scarlet now stained all over him. His thermal, torn at the shoulder was now heavily damp with blood and the fronts of his pants were splattered with red droplets.

He sat back on his calves, took a moment to catch the breath that left him. John stared at the ceiling, feeling his body react with a shiver down his spine.

Arthur and the others bounded down the lengthy pathway up to the Braithwaite manor. He produced his rifle as Shire skidded to a stop, the front door opening to the Braithwaite’s servant.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. It’s very la—” Arthur barely looked down the sight of his gun as he shot the gamma square in the chest, sending the man backwards into the main hallway.

“Arthur!” Hosea tried to chastise though the alpha wasn’t listening.

He dismounted from his horse, stumbled slightly before reloading his gun and starting up the stairs into the manor. Charles, Lenny and Sean followed after the alpha, his stench becoming a heavy cloud through the mansion.

“You tear this place apart, take anything of value. You find that Braithwaite woman, bring her to me!” Arthur ordered, pointing his rifle at the chandelier in the middle of the house.

He shot it down, the crystal moving in slow-motion as it crashed to the marble floor. Each piece shattered, the gold bar displaying it bending in with a brassy clang. The other alphas took note, dispersing through the rooms on the first floor.

“John!” Arthur started up the stairs, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

John jolted at the loud clatter from the first floor. He pushed to his feet, ran to the open door as he heard his name being called. He reached for Arthur’s journal and forced it into the back of his pants.

From the doorway, he peeked out into the hallway, noted the emptiness aside from the booming footsteps ascending the staircase. He waited, holding the knife defensively to his chest.

Teeth bared; John waited for the stranger to round the stairs until he froze.

The first thing he noticed was the stench. A reeking, heavy musk of bourbon and gunsmoke tainted with the hint of freshwater.

John felt breath leave from his lungs, standing dizzily under the incoming storm of an alpha aroma he knew too well. His eyes threatened to well, the tip of his nose pinching as he fought to keep his snarl.

“John!” Arthur yelled, careful with each step, holding back the sinking rage that was worming within him. He cocked his shotgun again, rounding the landing and starting up the second round of stairs.

John waited with a shiver down his spine, the rage within him rearing before softening as Arthur came nearer. He rushed out of the room, almost bowing immediately at the presence of his mate.

Arthur stopped in his trek, faltering slightly at the sight of an omega covered in drying blood. He didn’t bother to sniff in the direction of him, knowing it was _his_ omega covered in alpha blood.

He shouldered his rifle then bounded up the stairs, his hands quickly cradling John’s stained face.

John stood dead still, unsure how to react to the man before him. He was alive, just as he already knew, but he looked so beaten down.

He craned his head up, stared into Arthur’s crystalline blue eyes, fully acknowledging the blood splatter that painted up his face. The pull in both of their chests strummed tightly, filling both of them with a quick jolt of ecstatic electricity.

John opened his mouth to speak, only for Arthur’s rough thumb to trace along his bottom lips. Arthur wanted to smile, his lips painfully stretching. “Thought I was gonna lose you,” he whispered, his voice a croak.

John forced his eyes shut to not acknowledge the ever-growing pinch of his nose. His hands went for Arthur’s sides, tightening his hold on the man’s jeans.

They shared no more words, only holding onto each other while they shared shaky breaths. The coming down was the hardest, wracking both of them heavy shakes.

“Arthur, d’ya find him?” Sean asked from the bottom of the stairs.

Arthur couldn’t answer, gulping harshly and nodding as he rested his forehead to John’s. He mustered up the urge to speak and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, he’s…he’s okay,” Arthur lied. He opened his eyes to John, attempted to rub the blood from his cheeks. “You go on downstairs, I’ll find that woman.”

John shook his head. “I will kill that woman myself.”

The omega pulled away from his mate, holding the knife at his side as he started down the desolate hallway. Arthur kept close behind, not ready to let John out of his sight again.

The pull felt like a full link chain between them, tethered in unison.

John kicked open each door with Arthur following up with the shotgun for anymore Braithwaite sons, or Raiders, for that matter. A well-oiled team, with John taking a final moment before the last door to inhale Arthur’s scent.

He worked up the strength, his thigh burning with the raise of his foot and kicked in the master bedroom door. Arthur stepped in front of him, brandishing his shotgun and pointing it at the woman cowering in the corner of her bedroom.

“Catherine!” John growled, pushing past his mate and grabbing the frail omega by the back of the neck.

He pushed her forward and she stumbled over her rug. Arthur lowered his weapon as John stepped over the Braithwaite woman, leaned into her face.

“Look at my face,” John seethed through his grit teeth, his throat rumbling with agitation. “I killed yer sons.”

Catherine cowered, her body turned on her side as her grey eyes scanned the dirty omega’s face.

“You think that buyin’ me woulda brought me out of this?” John was closer now, pointing his knife and hovering it just before the matriarch’s eye. “You’ve just made it fucking worse!”

Catherine tried to crawl away only for John to pull her back. He knelt down, held the knife before her nose. “You want me to kill you to, old woman?”

John opened his mouth, revealing his sharp canines again. Arthur rushed to grab his mate as Hosea ascended the stairs.

“Where is she?” The beta asked, holding his sawed-off over his shoulder. “Arthur, John!”

John was rearing, scratching at his mate’s arms and attempting to wiggle from him. “She deserves to die, Arthur! She coulda killed you!”

Arthur remained strong, quiet while he endured his mate’s wild clawing and screeching. Even if they were on the same descent, John was much darker.

“She coulda killed our pup!” John yelled after her, slicing the knife in the air at Catherine as warning. “I’ll get you bitch!”

Catherine pushed to her feet and scampered out to the balcony in horror; Hosea was soon in the doorway, seeing Arthur nod the beta in the direction of the fleeing woman while his mate was close to falling apart.

Braithwaite stopped at the balcony, looking over it to the three men standing outside with their weapons brandished. She looked over her shoulder to see Hosea, pulling the edge of his weapon back and hitting her with it.

“I…I didn’t know that he was pregnant! I never would’ve…” Catherine cowered to her knees before Hosea. She reached for his pant legs, cried into them.

“That’s the thing about Dutch. He tends to bury the lead,” Hosea said, stepping away from the omega woman. “You don’t have my sympathy, however.”

Arthur tried to purr, his chest beginning to ache with the salt stinging in his skin again. “Easy, Darlin’. You’re okay now, yer both okay.”

John patted his hands on Arthur’s arms like an angry child, trying to hold onto the anger and mental anguish of not only himself but Arthur as well.

“We’re okay, John. I’m okay,” Arthur said, his hand reaching up to pet down his omega’s wild hair.

“I…will kill her for you,” John strained, watching as the beta pointed his gun in Catherine’s face and forced her to stand.

Arthur leaned in, squeezing his mate tight. He rested his lips to John’s ear. “You don’t have to. It’s over.”

John reeled forward with another pain-wrenched screech with Hosea leading the omega woman out of the room. Arthur held onto his mate, carrying him out of the room and down the stairs.

The three other alphas had trashed the manor, tearing down decorations from the wall and smashing non-valuables. It was time to leave.

Arthur stopped with John at the foot of the stairs, gave Hosea a final nod. The beta looked between Arthur, close to collapse, and John, feral and now realizing his attack on Arthur’s arms.

“You boys take care of yourselves,” Hosea said softly. “If you ever need me, try not to.”

Arthur tried to smile while John was staring at the beta’s face, fighting off a sad smile.

“Go, get out of here.” The beta waved his best sons away. “And don’t stop until you’re free.”

“Hosea.” John’s eyes started to well.

“Get out of here, now.” Hosea stated, matter-of-factly. “Before I get the boys to follow after you.”

Arthur nodded, his own eyes misting before he backed out of the main hallway and through the servant’s back door. In the darkness of the night, he released John and grabbed at his side with a hiss.

John whistled for Shire, holding his alpha up enough for him to climb onto his workhorse. Arthur then reached for John’s forearm, pulled him onto the saddle. John grabbed onto the rein, holding his alpha up with a hand on his back.

“Yah!” the omega called out, clicking the horse to break out of the manor with a heavy gallop and following by the way of the moon.

In the distance, the light of the Braithwaite manor soon went brighter, enveloping the dark plains with a bright ember of gold and red. It was over with the mansion engulfing in flames, passing over the grassy plains behind it.

Shire was agitated by the harsh push of his trot. Arthur was breathing harshly, doubled over his horse as John continued north.

It wasn’t until they passed Bacchus Station that Shire slowed to a tired walk with John finally leading him to water. He dismounted from the horse, gave him a sturdy pat on his neck before searching Shire’s saddlebag for his tent.

This was as far as they would get for the night, John didn’t want to push anyone further. By himself, John set up the tent by the lake shore, then urged Arthur to sit up.

“C’mon let’s get you to bed,” he whispered to his heavy alpha wincing at being moved.

Ducking inside, John rested Arthur down to their bedroll, letting his mate get as comfortable as possible before rummaging through his satchel. He pulled free a few tonics then remembered Arthur’s journal pressed against his back.

“I’ll get you some water,” John said, slowly pushing to his feet and grabbing his canteen.

The night was cool and quiet, the moon hung directly overhead. Shire rested down on the bank, softly whinnying at the omega bending to fetch water.

“I gave you a hard time, I’m sorry.” John held a hand out and pet down the black workhorse’s white snout. “And thank you for stayin’ with him when you did.”

Back inside, John sat by Arthur’s side, tucking his legs beneath him. He managed to undo the alpha’s tattered shirt, one of John’s favorites. When he was done, John turned on the lantern and hid the secondhand pain by the sight of Arthur’s chest.

He tore apart Arthur’s shirt softly and did his best to worm the rocks of salt from the alpha’s skin. Arthur grunted lowly, his lips slowly twitching while he tried to sleep.

John kept on, doing his best until most of the small bites were gone. Next, he went for Arthur’s side with the sudden onset of nausea at the sight. He was usually better than this.

With a deep breath, John tapped the back side of Arthur’s wound then the front, only to find scant slivers of shrapnel. He tried to press harder, only for Arthur to bare his teeth with a low grunt.

The alpha’s hand went for John’s wrist. “Stop. ‘M fine.”

John shook his head, taking another scrap of his shirt and wetting it with water. He swiped the blood from Arthur’s face, watched him follow the cool feeling on his skin.

“Actin’ like a hero gets you hurt, dummy,” John said, letting the rag sit on his mate’s forehead. He brought the canteen to Arthur’s lips, let him take a long drawl of water.

“Couldn’t let my mate get hurt,” Arthur whispered, his voice trailing off with the necessity to sleep.

John grinned softly, taking the rag away to scrub at his own face. He reached for the lantern, blew it out then stripped out of his bloodied clothes.

“Are you gonna be okay?” John asked, climbing over Arthur to curl into his side.

Arthur grumbled in response, dead tired, his arm curling around his omega’s shoulders.

John tried to stay awake, at least until Arthur was comfortable to sleep, but nuzzled his head in Arthur’s neck and drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite mission and they didn't even stay to see the fire. Arthur didn't even get to walk away like a goddamn badass.  
> I mean their exit was a bit badass but damn it.


	30. Steady the Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding a place to rest, John can't seem to get past the recent events. Time passes and the mates have to pack up and move off. John and Arthur consider the future of their pup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't tell you, maybe it's because I've worked on this a few days and it's actually a splice between two separate chapters I wanted to do, but I love this chapter. 
> 
> I know that I make mistakes in this fic and I appreciate you stickin' it out. I know I mess up some words, it's been too long since I wrote a good fanfic ( I actually don't think I ever have) and I'm trying to hold myself up to it.

_“No, John,” the young alpha said, shooing him away. “You can’t come.”_

_John was already dressed, ready to go into town with Dutch and Arthur. Hosea’d even bought him a hat to fit in with the two alphas._

_“C’mon, Arthur. I’m ready to go!” The preteen scuffed his shoe in the dirt, kicking up a small cloud. Miss Grimshaw had managed to stitch them together after a long-worn winter._

_“Don’t you got some bookreadin’ to do?” Arthur was tall and slim, a young buck alpha already overflowing with confidence._

_“No. Hosea said I could come with ya. I wanna go to the general store.” John rummaged through his pocket, found the handful of coins from his last few pickpocketing excursions._

_Arthur stared down at the boy, shook his head and pocked him square in the forehead. “You still ain’t comin’. It’s fer big boys, don’t you get it?”_

_John tried to growl but it was a menial thing, like a kitten getting fussy with a hiss. Arthur chuckled at the boy’s attempt, rested a heavy hand on John’s head and tousled his locks._

_“If I remember, I’ll getcha somethin’,” stated Arthur with a brushing tone. He retracted his hand and followed after Dutch to their horses._

_“It ain’t fair,” John said, going back into camp and sitting at Miss Grimshaw’s table. He rested his elbows on it, his face in his hands. “They keep goin’ without me.”_

_“Yer too small right now. You could end up hurt,” Susan said, walking around the table and sitting next to John. “We don’t want nothin’ bad to happen to you, John. Yer like our son.”_

John woke up in a cold sweat, his hand balling into a fist on Arthur’s stomach. He glanced up to see the alpha still snoozing, twitching slightly when he tried to shift.

Slowly, he sat up, forcing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out but it didn’t feel like enough. John peeked over to the opening of the tent, saw that it was still dark.

Arthur grumbled lowly, his hand at John’s thigh patting softly. “What’sa matter, Darlin’? You okay?”

John nodded, then swallowed harshly. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He turned to Arthur, climbed over the alpha and pressed his lips to his forehead. “Go on back to sleep. Imma get some more water.”

“John,” Arthur began, trying to sit up but only wincing at the pain in his side.

“I’ll be right back,” urged John, easing Arthur back to bed. “Just outside the tent.”

Arthur huffed in response, eyelids fluttering to open. “Alright then.”

John nodded, then crawled out of the tent. He sat on the bank of the lake for a moment, staring across the dark water while the clouds rolled across the moon. Shutting his eyes, John balled his fists as he crossed his arms.

The turmoil of feelings was starting to bubble, the nausea in his throat working its way up.

_“Arthur, my boy,” Dutch said, reaching for the young alpha while John sat by with Hosea. “How’s that omega of yours?”_

_“Eliza,” Arthur was quick to correct his leader, letting Dutch rest his hand on his shoulder. “She’s fine. I ain’t seen her in a while.”_

_John turned to Hosea, eyebrows furrowed. The beta shook his head, pointing to the book again. “Look here, have you ever met a sigma?”_

_John shook his head, still sparing a few glances over to Arthur with Dutch. Hosea swatted the young man’s arm. “Pay attention, John. There’s a lot you still don’t know.”_

_He was hard to pry away from the alphas’ conversation, wondering why he wasn’t included. “Why can’t I leave camp, Hosea?”_

_“The sigma is not necessarily a low status, but they are the loneliest. They emit a pheromone, much like a skunk, that deters predators and others from getting close.” Hosea willfully ignored the youngling, his finger sliding across the yellowed pages of the Epsilon._

_“Hosea,” John’s still-forming husky voice cracked while his tone was stern._

_The beta exhaled in slight frustration, bringing his head up to stare forward before looking to John._

_“It’s not safe for you, John.”_

_“Why ain’t it? I did fine by myself before,” added John, reminiscing to the orphanage._

_Hosea turned in his seat and shut the book. “That was before. You’re older now. It’s not the same anymore.”_

_“Why?” John asked, his head tilting slightly. “If I went with Arthur…”_

_“Arthur won’t always be there for you.”_

_“I can take care of myself.” John’s eyes narrowed at his father figure._

_“That’s not the point, John.” Hosea rested his hand on the youngling’s knee. “There are bad people out there. Worse than us. And if they ever got to you…”_

_John scrunched his nose in disgust. “That wouldn’t happen.”_

_“You don’t know that.” Hosea exhaled heavily, shaking his head at the stubborn boy. “Your status is still undetermined. It’s better for you to stay here with me until we can figure it out.”_

John jerked up at a distant howl, his throat suddenly shortening in length. He pushed to his feet, rounded the side of the tent and spit up the acid that made short travel from his stomach.

He rubbed at his stomach, pressed softly at the front of it to make sure the tenderness was still there. With a deep breath, he made his way back into the tent and over Arthur.

“You okay?” Arthur asked in a tired wheeze, arm still open for John to return to his side.

“Yeah, damn head’s gonna do me in,” John whispered, sinking back into position.

Arthur hummed inquisitively with a turn of his head. “Talk to me.”

John ducked his face into Arthur’s side, inhaling deeply the alpha’s sweat-tainted skin. He breathed harshly against his mate’s skin, trying to work up the nerve. “D’ya think Dutch ever saw me like he sees you?”

Arthur opened his eyes, stared at the top of John’s head from what he could tell. His eyes were still bleary and he wasn’t adjusting well to the darkness. His hand traveled up John’s side, then up to the omega’s head, pushing back his unkempt dark hair.

“It’s not worth thinkin’ about. It’s over, John.” Arthur tried to give a satisfying answer but John was sitting up in an instant. His hand fell down to John’s shoulder before the omega grabbed his wrist, leaned his cheek into Arthur’s palm.

“Yer not hearin’ me, Arthur,” John’s voice was softer now, a graveled whisper inching into Arthur’s ear.

“’M sorry,” replied Arthur, trying once again to sit up. If he thought about it truly, over the past ten years, or further if he tried hard enough, he could see why John asked. “I don’t know whatchu want me to say, Darlin’.”

“Tell me the truth,” John said, letting Arthur’s rough fingers tiredly twitch along his jaw. “You saw he treated me different.”

“I do now,” Arthur agreed, now sitting up though his body shocked him to rest. He folded his free hand into his side, then braced it to the ground, holding himself steady. “And you didn’t deserve that.”

John shut his eyes, allowed the words to sink in.

“Yer an outlaw first, an omega second. He was lucky to have you as a son, but he didn’t deserve you,” Arthur added, his hand on John trailing down to pull him in. “And if I could, I’d kill him for you.”

John scoffed at that, his hand pressing to Arthur’s chest only to pull a pained hiss from him. He lowly apologized, reaching his hand up to rest on Arthur’s shoulder.

His fingers twitched against the alpha’s warm skin. “If I could get my hands on that woman again…for what they did to you.”

Arthur released a breathy chuckle, leaning his forehead against John’s. “I ain’t dead yet. It’d take a lot more than a little salt to bring me down.”

“Yeah, yer a regular brick wall.” John said, scrunching his nose when Arthur’s nose nudged it.

“Better than you, wolf man. I ain’t gonna be restin’ up for two weeks.” Arthur teased.

“Bring it up again, tough venison, I dare you,” John retorted, leaning further into Arthur’s face, his breath puffing against the alpha’s lips.

“What’re you gonna do, wolf man?” Arthur stressed again.

John raked his fingers gently down the alpha’s chest, purposefully guiding down the tender skin around his wounds. “Can’t fight a man while he’s down.” His hand thumbed around the sensitive skin of Arthur’s side, pulling a few seething hisses between his teeth.

“Yer a mean man, John.” Arthur’s teeth were bared, attempting to smile through the pain.

“I know. I’m such a hardass,” John whispered, lightly pecking Arthur’s lips before yawning against his shoulder.

Two weeks passed, then a full month without any indication of whether Dutch was going to come after them. After the fire in Braithwaite, three bodies were extracted and most assumed it was Arthur and John.

The gang knew differently, but never spoke about it, eventually disbanding with Dutch’s arrest. Hosea and Strauss claimed to be witnesses to two of Dutch’s largest crimes and by the time the alpha was sent to jail, the gang shares were divided and lost.

Neither of the mates knew the whereabouts of the others, nor the gang knew where they’d fled. It was better this way apart.

Soon a month became three with the brunt of summer firmly behind them. While Arthur thrived well, John suffered in heat, rather not wearing a shirt at all while his stomach began to round out.

This particular morning, Arthur dropped the buck onto the butcher’s counter, a ten-point with a headshot. He tipped back his hat, glared at the man behind the counter.

“Six,” the man offered, not looking at the alpha. He picked up one of the animal’s hooves, ran his hands down the buck’s lengthy body.

“I’ll take ten,” Arthur stated sternly, not moved or swayed by any means of negotiation. It was the fourth time in the past three months that the butcher of Valentine tried to lowball him. “I been here before. I’m not one to forget.”

He flashed an alpha canine then scratched at his lengthy beard. “I’ll take my ten or I’ll take my buck.”

The butcher still didn’t meet his eyes, staring across the perfect buck before him. “Fine, but you should try the Trapper, outside of Annesburg. He’d give you the best price.”

With a forfeit of the cash, Arthur tipped his hat forward then went to Shire. He mounted the steed, started a trot out of the town while passing the gallows.

Arthur kept his eyes forward, letting the crowd drown out the one man’s pleas. When he was on the outskirts, he kicked into Shire’s sides, turning left and galloping across the Heartlands then north.

Arthur dismounted from Shire as John ducked out of the tent, ready to take his mate’s hand.

“What, what’s wrong?” Arthur held his hands out, eyeing over John’s body for anything wrong.

John was wearing one of Arthur’s button-ups, not bothering to close it as his full pudge was on display. His hair was at its longest, the stitches cut out from his face as it healed majestically.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” John said, taking grip of Arthur’s hand and sliding it under his shirt. He guided Arthur’s rough palm along the bottom of his globous stomach, then to one side. “He was just there.”

Arthur waited patiently, allowed John to do as he had to. John grumbled lowly, moving his mate’s hand to the other side of his stomach for him to find it.

They both paused, with John holding Arthur’s hand a bit harder to his stomach. It was quiet when a soft press under John’s skin caused Arthur to grin.

“You serious?” The alpha put both hands on John’s stomach now, cradling the roundness of it when another soft flutter came from under the omega’s skin.

John smiled, staring down at the alpha now entranced by his belly. “I was just sittin’ and he started movin’. I felt it,” he said, now poking at the top of his stomach. “He was close to my ribs.”

Arthur chuckled, fully on his knees while he reveled John’s soft belly. He leaned in, nosed along John’s belly button. “I can’t wait t’meet you, kid.”

The omega let Arthur have his moment, holding onto the hope of their pup. John was excited too; he was ready to hold them. “How was Valentine?”

“Shit,” Arthur said, standing once more and cradling John’s cheek. He offered a kiss to the bridge of his mate’s nose, then tilted his head to nudge at his marked scent gland. “And I’m guessin’ we ain’t getting much further with this huntin’.”

John shrugged, his hands resting at Arthur’s waist. “So we’ll have t’keep movin’.”

Arthur raised his eyes from John’s tanned skin to find a few men approaching their camp. He forced himself upright, silently alerting his mate of the strangers.

He slowly pulled John behind him, holding one of John’s hands while he sneered. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

A man, adorned in a dress blue uniform and cowboy hat, curtly bowed. He pulled his hat from his head, folded it to his chest as the two men behind him were inquisitive at the omega behind Arthur.

“I’m sorry to disturb you two,” the uniformed man began, “you two have been here for some time and while you haven’t bothered us, you are impeding on reserved land.”

Arthur’s face went placid, glancing over his shoulder to John, who shrugged. “I’m sorry we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

The man nodded again with a slight smile, one that made both Arthur and John uneasy. They weren’t staying longer this conversation.

“Is your omega pregnant?” One of the men close behind the uniform asked, turning to the older man beside him.

Though the mates didn’t answer, the young man was now whispering to the older man before they tapped at the uniform’s shoulder. Arthur sneered while John forced the buttons of the shirt closed.

“How far along are you?” Uniform asked, his head tilting inquisitively.

Arthur offered a heavy sniff in the direction of the men, slowly guiding John to mount Shire. Two alphas and a gamma, though Arthur was unable to determine which was which. John carefully hitched a foot onto the hold then slipped his leg over as Shire turned behind Arthur.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the older man behind the uniform spoke up, holding his hands out to stop the two. “If you are in need of shelter, we would offer you a temporary place to stay.”

“That won’t be necessary, gentlemen. You told us to get off your land and we’re doing just that.” Arthur clicked his tongue, ordering Shire to start towards the path. John held a hand out to grab the alpha’s shoulder.

Arthur folded his hand over his mate’s hand, looked up at him. “It’s okay. I’ll meet you down at the station.”

He swatted for Shire to leave then held his hands up as he gathered their belongings.

“I’m sorry if our presence frightened you,” the younger man said, stepping forward, past the uniform and offering to help.

“It’s fine,” drawled Arthur, “We shoulda been movin’ on earlier. Guess we got too comfortable.”

It was odd for Arthur and John to not pick up every two weeks. Without the gang, they were at a loss of occupying their hands. Arthur took up hunting, only further building their nest egg while John tried to sleep while his back began to ache on the bedroll.

Now was the time for Arthur to find him a cot, or better yet, a bed.

Arthur folded up their bedrolls, gathered their clothes and stuffed up the dresser chest. He dismantled the tent, forced it into his satchel before setting the heavy bit of furniture on his shoulder without a stammering breath.

“If you will not stay, I hope you can find your way,” the older man added to which Arthur nodded, hopefully.

“That’s the plan.” Arthur started back onto the path but stopped, turned around. “Do any of you by chance know what’s further up north?”

“Toronto,” the uniform added.

“Is it nice up there?”

“Clean waters, Canadian forests. Not a lot of neighbors,” the uniform said with a tender grin. “That might be your safest bet for your growing family.”

Arthur nodded, pointing a finger at the men. “Thank you, gentlemen. Sorry for impeding on your land.”

At the bottom of the mountain, John waited on Shire as Arthur sprinted with the dresser on his shoulder. When he came to the horse’s side, Arthur caught his breath with a short inhale.

“What’d they say?” John asked, hand on his stomach again. Now he felt that his rubbing was doing some good, making their pup know they were still cherished.

“We should keep headin’ north,” said Arthur, hoisting their dresser chest up and tying it tight to Shire’s side.

“Do you think we should?” John looked above, then forward back in the direction Arthur came from.

“If you think it’s a risk for us to stay here. I think we should head back in the direction of Strawberry, keep movin’ west.”

John couldn’t hide the scoff. “Don’t go soundin’ like—”

“I’m not sayin’ anything like him.” Arthur grunted at his shoulder, shook his head. “I’m just sayin’, I heard some men in Valentine talkin’ about a ranch needin’ some extra hands. Out past Strawberry.”

“When were you gonna tell me?” John asked.

Arthur shrugged, leaning against his Shire and staring up at John. He draped an arm over the omega’s lap, tilting his head. “What’dya think?”

John wasn’t one to argue, especially now. He’d taken a like to all of Arthur’s plans so far and this wasn’t any different. His face didn’t portray what was already made up in his mind, however, and Arthur stared up at the omega’s lowered brow and unamused smirk.

“We could check it out,” John said, turning over his shoulder to look at the southside ridge. “See if it’s worth our time.”

“And it won’t be long, I promise. We get in, we work and get out.”

Arthur stopped just along the path and called out to a man at the front of the house. “Excuse me, are you Mr. Geddes?”

The robust man, breaking a day sweat chopping wood, stopped in his task and set the axe aside. “No, sir. I’m Mr. Dickens, his overseer.”

Arthur spared a look over his shoulder to John, arm gripped around his waist. John gave a slight nod for Arthur to continue.

“Abe Callahan and my…” Arthur waited a moment, hoping for John to speak up, take a title that both of them could remember.

“His partner, Jim Callahan.” John spared the alpha the brain ache and took the simplest mantle he could for their situation.

Arthur cleared his throat, dismounting from Shire. “I’d heard in Valentine that your boss might be looking for some hands?”

Mr. Dickens swiped his hands on the front of his pants, approaching the strange pair with a quirk of his brow. “He might be, you two lookin’ for work?”

“That’s right. We, uh, had some business with Jim’s uncle and it turned sour quick,” Arthur lied, tilting back his hat and glancing up at John.

He slid off the back of Shire, pulled his jacket to close. There was no telling if they were compassionate enough to let a pregnant omega work.

“Is that so?” Mr. Dickens eyed the two, both an unkempt way. Neither of them seemed to have shaved or had a haircut for quite some time. He spared darting glances, piecing together the two strangers before him.

The mostly lithe one had sharpened nails, a sign of an omega. The taller brute was less presenting of his status. No nails to confirm or small frame to indicate anything other than a full-bred alpha.

“I don’t know. Mated hands…” Mr. Dickens shook his head and started back to his task. “It’s a lot of trouble.”

“We’re both good workers, sir,” Arthur said, pointing to John. “Jim might not look it but he can carry just as much as me. Really helps with a load.”

John folded his lips together, trying to not chuckle at the phrase. He nodded in agreement while he bit at his tongue.

“We’ve been havin’ some trouble with some men up the way.” Mr. Dickens stopped again and pointed down the road, the opposite direction John and Arthur came in. “Think you could handle them too? Heard omegas don’t fare well with confrontation.”

Arthur went still, not looking over to John but knowing he took offense. “Sir, I—”

John’s hand pressed to the front of Arthur’s chest, silencing his next few words. He stepped forward and buttoned his jacket closed.

“Mr. Dickens, you would be happy to have Abe and I on your farm. Aside from the hard work we’re capable of, if you need a couple of gunslingers, we can be those as well.” John tried to speak as proper as possible, taking a clean page from Hosea’s tactics of talking.

The man was stern, silent, while he gave the pair another once over.

“You got work, we’ll work,” Arthur added. “We’ll work harder than any of the other hands here. We ain’t lookin’ for charity.”

Dickens’ brows knitted together. “You two seem a little eager. You in some kinda trouble?”

“No trouble at all, sir. We’re just tryin’ to get our start away from that uncle of his.” Arthur nodded over to John. “Plum fool robbed us of our shares.”

John hid a quirk of his brow and glance to the alpha, his turn for laying it on thick. He turned to Dickens again.

“Just give us a chance,” said John, not one to plead for this but damn it if he wasn’t tired of sleeping on cold ground. If this was their start, they needed it now.

Dickens’s hands went to his waist with a sharp exhale. “Fine. A chance. I’ll let Mr. Geddes know when him and his wife return tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dickens.” John held his hand out to shake the man’s.

Dickens passed by John, taking Arthur’s hand instead. John hid the grit of his teeth, waited for the man to acknowledge him next. Arthur stared at the hand in his, squeezing. He looked at the man’s ruddy face, hidden behind his beard.

With a slight sniff, Arthur narrowed his eyes, forcing a grin on his lips. A delta, snuffing his mate. Arthur squeezed a bit harder at the man’s hand, feeling his palm start to fold.

Dickens retracted his hand, gave Arthur a particular look then turned to John. He held his hand out and the omega took it, his grip just as firm and squeeze the same amount of intimidating.

They were a package deal, it was hard to dismiss one without pissing off the other.

“What was it about that man?” John asked after Arthur carried the dresser chest in and unsaddled Shire. It’d been a while since he gave the poor workhorse a break.

Arthur sat on the edge of the double bed pressed to the wall, eyes on his agitated mate while John undid his jacket and tossed it on the table.

“I dunno, Darlin’.” Arthur went for his shoulder, rolling it back. “But you let me know if he does it again. I can’t stand that shit.”

“You can’t? I wanted to tear his fuckin’ throat out with my teeth.” John’s hands were curled up, reminding him of his nails. He’d been feral since Braithwaite and with the first instance of people, John was cagey.

“Easy, it’s our first day.” Arthur shrugged off his hat and set it on the bed. “You’ll get back into it.”

Arthur was easier to manage, he’d healed quickly from his wounds and forced his animalistic nature to the recesses. His priority was John, making sure he was well enough to be left alone for an hour at a time. The ginger bite of his scent was hiked up now, blooming with the swell of his belly.

John wasn’t easily convinced, starting to pace with a deeply set growl in his stomach. Arthur’s eyes bounced back and forth after his mate, almost entranced.

“I think what’ll do you some good is a nice bath, a haircut too.” Arthur held his hand out for John to take.

He stopped in his pace, stared at Arthur’s extended hand then took it with roll of his eyes. Arthur pulled the omega into his lap, John’s legs straddling his thighs. He dropped his hands, ran them up the back of John’s thigh and received shaky exhale.

“Do you some good, do the pup some good too.” Arthur looked down John’s body then back up. “Don’t even worry ‘bout this. You heard what I said.”

John’s eyes fluttered close, his arms resting on Arthur’s shoulders. “We get in, we work and get out.”

“And you,” Arthur poked his mate in his plushy chest, “don’t overdo it. You don’t have to prove yerself to anyone here. It’s you and me, and little Alice.” His hand drifted to cradle John’s stomach.

The omega narrowed his eyes at Arthur, shook his head. “We definitely ain’t namin’ them that.”

Arthur chuckled softly, “Well, we ain’t talked about names yet.”

“I don’t wanna get either of our hopes up. We won’t know ‘til they’re here.”

“Why don’t we try ‘n’ ask them, huh?” Arthur tapped a finger against the firm bump. “Hey there, uh, kiddo. Yer Paw and I were trynna figure out whether you were a boy or a girl, care to shed some light?”

John covered a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at the alpha’s tenderness, speaking to his stomach like a man on a telephone. “What’re they sayin’?”

Arthur waited patiently, receiving a press against his palm. “Yer awake. Hey, little buck. Gimme one kick for girl, two fer boy, alright?” He craned his head down, speaking into the top of John’s stomach. “Come on, now.”

John hid another snort of laughter, watching Arthur stare enamored with John’s pudge. “I dunno if you’ll get yer answer, Big Daddy.”

Arthur glanced up at his mate, offered a teasing shush before he pressed his ear to John’s belly. His hands were holding both sides, rubbing to feel when the pup responded.

They paused at the first press against John’s skin, with Arthur grinning stupidly. “See, a girl. Alice.”

John shook his head. “Still no, why not Abigail or Grace or—”

Another press under John’s skin caused him to swallow a snort, leaving him to cough and laugh at the same time. Arthur’s mouth scrunched in a mix of disappointment and smiling at John’s reaction.

“Maybe they don’t know yet,” John tried to help, his other hand massaging at Arthur’s shoulder as he sat upright.

Staring into Arthur’s hopeful lazuline eyes, John chuckled outwardly. “I-I’m sorry, hon. That was just too good.” He leaned in and stole a quick kiss from Arthur’s puckered lips. “I mean, the look on yer face.”

“Don’t you take up your Pa’s humor now,” added Arthur in the direction of John’s stomach. “That ain’t fair, messin’ with yer Daddy like that.”

John continued laughing while Arthur shook his head, sparing a few guffaws at the expense.

“Fine, fine. If yer a boy in there, then what’s yer name?” Arthur tapped again.

Raising a brow and staring at the alpha’s face, John thought about it. “I like Jack.”

“Jack,” Arthur repeated, sitting back and rubbing his hands up John’s sides. “Jack Morgan, I like that.”

John smirked, “In due time, Morgan.”

“I’m holdin’ ya to it, Marston.” Arthur taunted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I know that the Pronghorn Ranch is established early 1907, don't really need that comment, so that's why I tagged Canon Divergence. It's a bit of a stretch but damn it, do I not love Pronghorn Ranch.


	31. Simple Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and John treat themselves with a night in Strawberry. John gets a first glimpse of his new work and eventually earns a new confidant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I've been depressed and busy.   
> No more excuses, this was 13 pages long in word, so i hope this is a hefty read. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a few days, we might be getting close to the end? Like four, maybe five chapters at the most. 
> 
> But we're gonna be wrapping it up here soon, I hope that's okay. 
> 
> I don't want to let these boys go and originally, I was gonna make this a series with soulmates and A/B/O but I dunno.

The mates rode back into Strawberry for the sake of a hot bath. Arthur stopped Shire at the inn and helped John off of the horse, much to the omega’s distress.

He’d tried to not laugh at John trying to unhitch his leg, balancing while he tried to slip off of the side of Shire.

John grumbled, finally standing on solid ground. He rubbed to sate the grumble of his stomach and the kicking of his pup.

“Hey, you ain’t a horse, stop it.” He pressed to his side where the pup’s feet were starting to patter in a rhythm.

Arthur chuckled. “Come on.” He nodded to the entrance of the inn. “Let’s get you situated.”

John followed Arthur inside, then upstairs to the master bathroom. He opened the door for the omega, saw the bath already drawn.

“What, you gonna leave me here?” John asked, stepping into the bathroom and unbuttoning his shirt.

Arthur held the doorknob, watching John kick off his boots while he reached to undo his belt. He stammered, pulling his eyes from John’s body long enough to answer. “No, just gonna be right outside the door. Keep those bath ladies offa you.”

John huffed in amusement, raised a brow at Arthur with a smirk. “You keep ‘em offa you?”

“Why, you jealous?” Arthur grinned confidently, flashing his sharpening canines.

John quickly dropped his pants and kicked them off his ankles. He stretched an arm of his head, turned and stepped into the bath, all letting Arthur get a full view. “How could I be? They can’t do nothin’. You know who yer mate is.”

He sat down in the tub, sank down with his hands gripping the lip of the porcelain. Arthur grunted, shut the door, walked over and leaned into John’s ear. “Yer gettin’ damn cocky with my pup in you, ain’t ya?”

“And what’cha gonna do about it?” John asked with a grin, sloshing warm water up his arms and across his chest. He shifted lower in the high-back porcelain only for Arthur’s hand to grip at his shoulder.

The alpha’s mouth rested against John’s ear, his tongue starting to worm into the shell of it. “Yer gonna get it when we get back to the ranch. Now move over.”

John’s brows shot up, a chill shocking down his back as he did as Arthur ordered. The alpha growled, sated by John’s complacency. Arthur stripped as John splashed the hot water down his back.

He stepped in, minding John, and sank into the water. The excess rose and sloshed out of the sides, spattering the hardwood with sudsy water.

“You couldn’t wait to get yer own bath? Yer gonna make the water dirty.” John teased, running his hands over his hair to slick it back.

“And miss scrubbin’ yer back? Not a chance.” Arthur laughed lowly, his hand reaching for John’s shoulder to rest him back against his chest.

“Ain’t doin’ a whole lotta scrubbin’ this way.” John rested his head against Arthur’s collarbone, now staring up at the ceiling.

The way the room was lit was romantic, the one lamp lit in the corner of the room while a candle burned on the armoire next to the closet door. John’s eyes fought to stay open, the warmth of the water and the sensitive smell of soap cradling him all while against Arthur’s heated body.

His hand slipped from the tub’s edge, turning his face to get comfortable. Just a moment of quiet sloshing as Arthur’s arms curled around his waist and held him.

“You think you could make it back to the ranch?” Arthur leaned into John’s ear, whispered his question.

John softly shook his head with a groan. An actual bed was what he was aching for, but this was coming to be a close second. He yawned, turned in the direction of Arthur.

“I’m tired, Arthur.”

“I know you are.” Arthur’s nose traced along John’s hairline, let him rest for the time he needed.

Anything would help in the long run. From the nightmares and return of morning sickness while laying on hard ground for three months, Arthur wasn’t surprised by John’s loss of sleep.

“I was thinkin’,” Arthur began.

“That’s dangerous,” John muttered sleepily, a grin slowly spreading across his scarred lips.

Arthur returned a smirk, nudging his nose to John’s. “I was thinkin’ after this, after the ranch, where’dya wanna go?”

John hummed, halfway in thought. His eyes lazily fluttered open, looking forward into Arthur’s dim crystalline blue eyes.

He searched them, catching onto every deep pool in the mix, the green lined closer to his pupils. “Yer a beautiful man, Arthur Morgan. I’ll go wherever you take me.” John replied tiredly, his eyes shutting again.

“Now I know yer losin’ it,” Arthur said with a chuckle. “’M serious, John.”

“I know,” John yawned. “I wanna live on our own patch of land.”

“And be a ranch hand all yer life?” Arthur asked, tucking his chin on top of John’s head.

John hummed. “Keep our hands busy so we don’t fall into it again.”

“You think we could do that?”

While John thought about it, he nodded. Arthur pursed his lips together in thought, tried imagining it. A lush plot of land, surrounded by trees and fences. A large cabin with extra room for more pups, if they ever decided to have anymore. A farm with chickens and goats, maybe a pig or two.

He could put himself in that place so long as John was right beside him. Arthur looked down at his mate, saw that he’d blissfully slipped into a firm sleep.

He did his best to rinse the grime from both of them without waking John, then reached for a towel with his free arm. Arthur managed to slip out of the tub then grabbed John after and draped a towel over him.

In the adjoining room, Arthur rested John on the bed, pulled the covers over him then sat at the foot.

“Guess that haircut’ll have to wait, huh?”

At the bright of dawn, Arthur was up, getting dressed in the clothes he wore the night before. Arthur had spared him a pillow to cradle against his stomach but John only cuddled close to the alpha and snored into his ear. John was an immovable, un-wake-able, object Arthur constantly reminded himself. If the man didn’t sleep well before pregnancy, now he was Rip Van Winkle.

“Darlin’, it’s time t’get up,” the alpha leaned over the bed, coaxed into John’s ear.

John grumbled, his face burying in the downy pillow, pulling the covers up to tuck under his chin. He was far past comfortable, for the first time able to sleep on his side without hurting his back or belly in the process.

“Ten more minutes,” John groaned, turning more of his face into the pillow, free hand on his stomach.

“Come on, Marston, it’s our first day. Gotta get up with the rooster.” Arthur’s fingers wiggled between the cover and John’s chin.

John bared his teeth, the warmth and comfort from his covers giving him a protective cocoon around his pup.

“Arthur, I will bite yer fingers,” John said with a tired whine.

Arthur’s grinned softly, leaned in to breathe in John’s ear. “Come on, get some work outta ya and you’ll in bed early tonight.”

“Fine,” John murmured, slowly sitting up with Arthur retreating. “Fuckin’, the day better hurry up.” He pressed his hand to his side and was met with a solid press to his stomach. “I know, and you better not make this rough fer me.”

Arthur spared a huff of laughter, leaning down to John’s stomach. “Don’t go ruinin’ yer Pa’s first day. We’ve got big impressions to make.”

John scrunched his face at the alpha, once again showing the softest side of him. “Don’t be actin’ cute, I’ll maul you.”

Quirking a brow, Arthur looked at John, “We don’t have time fer that, Darlin’.”

John muscled down the ache of his back following Arthur to the barn. He’d seen Dickens walk in there and they hadn’t seen or heard from Mr. Geddes yet.

“Callahans,” Dickens called from the opening of the barn. “Get over here.” He looked over his shoulder to the man, a stout beta, peeking inside of a barrel.

The man stood upright, walked over to the two standing outside of the barn.

“Mr. Geddes, these are the new ranch hands I told you about.” Dickens nodded to the mates.

John squeezed his eyes shut, standing up taller and forcing his fists to his back as he stopped. His stomach jutted and Arthur quickly paused to stretch in front of him, obscuring the view of his pregnant mate’s belly.

“I see you boys had a good night’s rest. David Geddes, pleased to meet you.” The man, wearing a clean riding jacket and checkered vest, extended his hand out to John first.

Arthur exhaled in a sort of relief with John taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Jim Callahan.”

Geddes nodded then turned to Arthur. “Abe. We thank you for the opportunity, sir. You and Mr. Dickens.”

“You two work hard, be honest and you’ll get your keep. I promise you that.”

“They’re mated hands,” Dickens added snidely.

Geddes only nodded, not phased by the information. “Then you better work extra hard. Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

The beta made his way through the men then stopped and turned around. He snapped his fingers a couple of times in thought, finger wagging at John.

“Are you an omega?” He asked, which brought Arthur to jolt, ready to make a fuss.

“Yes sir.” John held his hand out to give Arthur pause, not fully past agitation himself.

Geddes gave him a once over, still in yesterday’s clothes and lengthy hair tied tight at the base of his head. “I think you’d be better suited workin’ inside with Mrs. Geddes.”

John glanced to Arthur, who shook his head slightly, then craned his view to Dickens, stone faced and arms crossed. He bared a look down to his feet, or what he could see of them, then shook his head.

“I think I’ll be alright, sir.”

“I insist. That woman breaks her back by herself, least you could do is give her a hand. It’s work just like the rest.” Geddes held a hand out to his side, waiting for John to consider it.

“Just go, Jim. I’m sure we’ll find somethin’ fer you tomorrow.” Dickens was firm in his tone at the same time nodding for Arthur to follow him.

“Sure,” John weakly agreed, giving Arthur a side eye. He hid a gulp, staring into Arthur’s lazuline eyes with a thought. _Don’t you let them hurt us._ His mind was retreating back into survival in an instant, remembering the struggle to keep two alphas off of him while his hands were tied.

“Don’t you worry, son. Mrs. Geddes is sweet as apple pie.”

John wasn’t listening as he followed the man to his house, still looking back at Arthur frozen at the entrance of the barn.

“She’s a gamma, doesn’t take too kindly to alphas and the like. You and her might get along fine.”

John hid a cut of his eyes, having heard it once before. “Sir, I gotta say, I don’t know if I’m too comfortable…”

He was cut off by the strained grunts of a woman on a table. John ducked his head around Geddes, then back in the direction he came from. Another woman, her hair tied back and her sleeves rolled past her elbows, stood upright and patted at the other woman’s legs.

“Atta girl, Anna. Just a few more pushes,” the woman coaxed while John’s mind began to boggle in confusion.

“Honey, this is our new ranch hand, Jim.”

The woman standing waved her hands at Mr. Geddes. “That’s nice, dear.”

“I was thinkin’ he could help you—”

“Tell him to grab those towels and then you get outta my way,” Mrs. Geddes responded shortly.

Mr. Geddes looked to John, who sprung to action, grabbing the towels and bringing them to Mrs. Geddes’ side, placing them just beside the woman’s leg. He caught sight of the blood just along Mrs. Geddes’ hands, splattered along the woman’s thighs as she crunched up and strained another grunt.

With another glance, John finally assessed the situation and looked back to Mr. Geddes, only to see the beta man was gone.

John did as was told, standing off to the side, narrowly bumping into a tray of steel instruments, each now smattered with a handprint of crimson. He gulped deeply, tried to not stare as the woman released a guttural growl.

The air was thick with her scent, an omega. Her face was red and drenched in sweat and her legs were draped up to the knee in white cloth. He unconsciously rested his hand to his stomach and hid a grimace.

 _You better be easy, pup._ John’s mouth went dry as Mrs. Geddes reached for a pair of medical scissors.

“It’s come to this, she’s breached.” Mrs. Geddes held the scissors up for Anna to see before ducking and John covered his ears with a soft gag.

 _Nope._ He was not going to stay longer. John rushed out of the room and across the porch before bending forward to spit sudden bile.

Arthur’s head popped up from behind the cow, teats in hand, at the slam of the door. He swiped his hands on his pants, stood up and stepped out of the barn.

John tried to stop, knowing that it wasn’t fair to Mrs. Geddes or the omega Anna. He didn’t want to think about it though, the image was etched into his mind.

And that was going to be him one day soon. _The scissors, oh god, the scissors._ John folded a hand between his legs with a pained hiss, his wrist swiping the acid from his mouth.

He needed to take a deep breath, but John was stuck on the blood from the woman’s thighs. Slowly, he stood upright, slipping his hands away.

He’d have rather just shoveled shit. Arthur whistled from the barn doors, raising a hand to John with a questioning shrug. John looked at his mate across the yard, shook his head then waved him away.

He’d be fine. John just needed a minute. The porch door slammed behind him and John tried to steady his nerves a minute more.

“You got yerself a yella belly, boy,” Mrs. Geddes said, wiping her hands on a white tea towel.

She came down the stairs and grinned at John, who was now standing with his hands on his hips. The gamma woman gave him a firm once over then grinned.

“Yer pregnant. That’s why that old man Geddes sent ya in with me.”

John stopped, wanting to immediately pull his jacket closed but not seeing the point. He was still hot with the summer swelter and his clothes felt lined with wool. He couldn’t catch a break.

Still, he shook his head. “I dunno why Mr. Geddes sent me in there but I ain’t goin’ back. I thought you’d be makin’ molasses er somethin’.”

Mrs. Geddes laughed, a pointed heeyaw type, taking the stained tea towel and dabbing it under her neck. “I ain’t one of them old folk, if that’s what yer gettin’ at. I birth pups and calves, foals. And on occasion, I will make myself a nice jam.”

John smirked quickly, not sure whether to join in the woman’s rousing. She quirked a brow at him.

“You ever tried rhubarb?” She asked, her face wiped clean of expression.

John’s heart immediately sank to his feet, only reminding himself of the first and ever time he’d tasted rhubarb and where he’d gotten it from. He wanted to shake his head but his body was rigid.

Arthur still stared after John, even after Mrs. Geddes emerged, watching his mate’s body language change in an instant. His body started to rear, his shoulders rolling upward to bunch.

“Nastiest shit I ever tried to jam. I tell ya, Mr. Geddes, my boys, they’d never go for something as vile as that,” Mrs. Geddes said finally, her face cracking into amusement once again.

John spared a dry chuckle at the gamma’s expense, his stomach still a firm knot just against the brunt of his pup. He pressed the heel of his palm to the top of it, smirked at the press he got in return for it.

“If you wanna help me, you can. In horse birthin’, I mean. Them omegas, I guess like you, don’t take too kindly to strangers ‘round their pups.”

John nodded at that. “Yer right. I snapped at my father once for just tryin’ to touch me.”

Mrs. Geddes stared at the omega finally speaking up again. “And what happened to him?”

John shook his head. He shouldn’t have brought it up. “I’ll help you with yer foals.”

“And then in the meantime, you can help me with some laundry too.”

It was the least John could do, something not heavily straining on him. So long as he was away from other pregnant omegas and not breaking his back out shoveling hay.

Arthur waited a moment longer before he pulled himself away, returning to his task. He’d gotten halfway through it and he was expected for so much more.

At the end of the day, Arthur sat down at the table while John stripped off his jacket. He couldn’t do it. How the hell could any omega do it?

John sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his boots to air his swelling feet. He went for his shirt buttons, ripped it open to reveal his bare chest to the slightly cooler cabin air.

The hot water from scrubbing sheets all day was worse than seeing the omega giving birth. He’d, once again, rather wanted to shovel shit. _Damn it._

John grumbled, his hands rubbing excessively at his face. Arthur watched John from the table, holding a spoon of stew prepared by Mrs. Geddes to his lips as he blew.

“Rough day?” Arthur asked, having barely broken a sweat.

His sleeves were still rolled up, his shirt unbuttoned to his ribs. Arthur shed his hat early in the day, not working in the sun, and he’d gotten to do one of his easy pastimes: chop wood. An easy task in the strength and swift movement.

“I dunno if I can push this little sucker out.” John’s hand went to his stomach. He slowly tilted his head up to meet his alpha’s gaze. “Saw another omega givin’ birth on the Geddes’ dinner table t’day.”

Arthur reacted with a dry smirk, standing up and putting his stew back on the stove. “Is that right? Wasn’t a miracle?”

John remembered the scissors, eyes going wide. “It was somethin’.”

“What else d’you do today?” Arthur asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“That woman threw me a sliver of pity and had me scrubbin’ sheets all day in hot water.” John’s arms stretched out, resting his head back.

Arthur entertained himself with the sight of John, lookin like he’d swallowed half a summer melon, taking eclipse over the both half of his face. John grumbled, exhaling in exhaustion as he reached for his pants button, riding lower on his hips with each passing day.

He pushed them down past his hips, aerating the heat from his thighs. He didn’t even want to talk about it now, didn’t want to acknowledge how lost in thought he’d gotten seeing Arthur bust through wood in minutes.

John’s fingertips paid the price, scraping too hard on the washboard and skinning him. He shut his eyes, let the heat evaporate him as best it could. Arthur’s entertainment dripped into slight intrigue, the familiar bite and sweet scent of slick in the air.

His pupils dilated, standing up straighter as his arms crossed tighter. He immediately remembered what he said back at the inn the night before while he minded the ever-revealing plethora of skin of John’s waist and hips.

Arthur pushed off from the counter, made his way over to John and hooked his fingers through the omega’s belt loops. “You got somethin’ to tell me, Marston?”

John shook his head, slowly opening his eyes with a curious rise of his brow. “No, why?”

Arthur tugged John’s pants down further, unleashing the concentrated scent of slick. He wavered slightly, forgotten how sweet and intoxicating the smell was.

Curiously, cautiously, Arthur pet at the fur between John’s hip then slipped a finger down to his clit.

John’s eyes fluttered, his breath hitching at the touch. Hadn’t felt that in a bit. He couldn’t remember if it was two weeks or a whole month, but John missed Arthur’s rough fingers.

“Wanna explain now?” Arthur asked, leaning closer to John, lips teasing to kiss him.

John shook his head with a sly grin until Arthur slipped a finger into him. His hand went for Arthur’s wrist with a high moan, his mouth falling open as his eyes bored into Arthur’s.

His azure eyes were unblinking, searching and researching John’s face, taking in every minute scrunch and pinch of his eyes and nose.

John’s dark eyes were full of depth, reflecting the dark wood and brightening against his face. Instead of coal color, they were coffee. Swirled and rich, something that made Arthur groan in delight.

Arthur pressed his second finger in, tapped up, which made John raise a leg to the edge of the bed. Throwing his head back, John panted, his eyes falling closed.

“You were choppin’ wood and I—” John tried, only for his tongue to loll out of his mouth with a rhythmic curling of Arthur’s fingers.

The alpha’s thumb pressed to John’s throbbing clit, causing John to mewl in long-drawn bliss. He tried to still the buck of his hips as the rest of his body jerked in a quick orgasm.

“Fuck!” John cried out, “Arthur~”

Arthur was entranced by John’s squirm, his hot walls contracting around his fingers while slick gushed from him. The scent refreshed in the air, enlivening a jolt in Arthur he long thought was sated.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, leaving John to twitch in the remnants of pleasure that followed. Arthur sat by, licked his fingers clean before looking down at his euphoric mate.

John’s arms were stretched out again, his plushy chest rising and falling quickly to catch himself. The ache of his back receded, but he was far past exhausted.

“Arthur, damn it,” John said, perching up on an elbow and straightening his head on his shoulders. “I’m too tired to..”

“It’s alright, we don’t have to.” Arthur was patient, he had to be. After building up a steel resolve for past eighteen years, it was still second nature to handle himself.

John folded his lips against his shoulder, the slow build of guilt lining his stomach. He knew it wasn’t an obligation, not by Arthur anyways. If alphas ever initiated, in modern lore, omegas were meant to fulfill.

He sat up, leaned into Arthur and pressed his lips to his. A solid kiss, one that John could taste his own slick from by slithering his tongue between Arthur’s scarred lips. John came closer, his hand cupping Arthur’s cheek while he kissed.

The clashing of tongues was met with Arthur gently undoing his belt, taking grip of himself. He knew this was the least John could do, though he didn’t want him to feel that way.

John’s other hand went for Arthur’s neck, his fingers raking through the alpha’s long hair. He pulled him closer, letting Arthur take weight off of his other hand.

Seizing the opportunity, John’s hand snaked down Arthur’s arm and grabbed his wrist, pressed it to his plushy pectoral. Arthur groaned into John’s mouth with a slight clatter of teeth, starting a slow pace on himself while his other hand copped a feel like a horny young buck.

John grinned against Arthur’s lips, the squeeze of Arthur’s hand sending a feathery tickle along his lower back. Arthur huffed in amusement, feeling John’s lips curl as he stroked himself faster.

“You…don’t have to do this, Darlin’,” Arthur managed to muster between his own groans and John’s lip smacking.

John hummed and squeezed on Arthur’s hand on his chest. “Shuddup.”

Arthur huffed again, his thumb rubbing over John’s nipple. The omega faltered slightly with a low keening and Arthur stroked hard until he grabbed at his tip. He pulled away from the kiss, only huffing and groaning against John’s mouth as he came in his palm.

John pulled away, covering his mouth with his hand. “Turnin’ into a one-pump chump?”

Arthur snarled lightly, still riding out ecstasy. “Just like you gettin’ slick all day?” He leaned in, smooching at John’s cheek.

John tried to push him away, his nervous laughter turning into highly amused giggles. He felt his cheeks turn red while he squirmed at Arthur. “Well stop actin’ like you fer a day, maybe I’ll change.”

“Like you could resist me any other way,” Arthur retorted, leaning after his mate with a confident smirk.

John met Arthur’s lips with a light nibble. “I could at least try.”

Arthur lay awake while John nuzzled closely, practically on top of him while his nose was planted firmly to the alpha’s scent gland. He was more than comfortable, curled in the comforter and leaving a corner for Arthur’s thigh.

He exhaled deeply, working through the annoyance of his omega taking up the covers while cuddling closely. Arthur had to get their nest situated soon so he wouldn’t have to freeze at night.

The night crept into morning with Arthur being lulled to sleep by John’s steady snoring, his mate’s weight along with his protruding belly giving him just enough warmth.

He woke at the sunlight peering into the window, the rooster crowing at the first peek of dawn. Arthur pinched at the bridge of his nose with a few steadying blinks then looked down to see John, still snoring.

“Come on, Darlin’. Another day,” He whispered softly, a bit more mindful of John’s dislike for earliness.

“Turn it off, sunshine. ‘M stayin’ in bed,” John said sleepily, raising a hand to lightly smack in Arthur’s face. He turned, buried his face in the crook of Arthur’s arm and tried to hold his breath.

“You can’t hide.” Arthur used his fingers to trace along John’s side, finding his ribs and poking at them.

John squirmed, grumbled and tried to get away from his mate in the short amount of space behind him.

“Are we gonna have to do this every day? First lap of luxury and yer already spoiled,” Arthur said with a smile, rolling over on top of his mate.

“Spoiled? Arthur, if this were a haybed I’d be actin’ the same,” John responded with a roll into the mattress. _Damned pup won’t let me sleep on my stomach no more._ He did as best he could, framing his chest to the mattress while his stomach was still firm against the mattress.

Arthur quirked a brow, sitting up on his haunches, watching John contort his body into some way of comfort. “Ya look like yer tryin’ to break yer back.”

John ignored the man resting on his calves, though it was true. If anything, the position only made his back feel worse. He gave up, sitting up on his hip with a stretch of his arms. The cover rolled from his body, freeing him for the morning sun to dance across his skin.

“Don’t you miss yer union suit? Didn’t ya used to wear that a lot?” Arthur asked casually.

John spared a side eye to the naked alpha. “Don’tchu? Cuttin’ ‘em off and lookin’ like a homeless fool.” He looked over his shoulder and down, see if there was something wrong with his own birthday suit. “You got a problem with it?”

“No, er, not at all.” Arthur was adamant with an answer, waving a hand with more confirmation just so John didn’t take offense.

John slid to the edge of the bed, let the comforter fall from his waist as he stood up. “Good.”

He grabbed his and Arthur’s clothes, set them on the table then flipped open the chest. John bent at the waist, giving Arthur a full view while he tossed a few garments his way before grabbing some clothes of his own.

Instead of a jacket, John went back to his tried and true method of double thermals. He would suffer the heat for only a little bit longer until Autumn, and then it was smooth sailing until the pup came.

Arthur dressed and was out of the cabin first, giving John a quick nuzzle against his temple before leaving. John rushed himself, pulling both thermals over his stomach with a tight fit and stamping into his boots.

He pulled back his hair again, tied it at the nape of his head then ran out of the door. John caught up to Arthur, gave him a firm tap on his backside then made his way up to Mr. and Mrs. Geddes’ porch.

“Jim,” Mrs. Geddes began, opening the front door. “Just the man I was looking for. I remember you yesterday goin’ yellow in the belly as I was in town.”

His brows furrowed, waiting for the woman to get to the point. He was already running on fumes, ready to get started in whatever was necessary.

“Well, I told this woman I met in the general store and we shared a laugh at your expense. But it turns out, she knows a few things about birthin’ pups.” Mrs. Geddes stepped out with a woman to follow. “So I invited her here t’meet you.”

John waited until he could see the sunlight peer across the woman’s face before he shielded his eyes. He figured his mind was deceiving him, but his nose never did. With a light sniff, John recognized the cheap perfume and mothy smell of a woman he didn’t think he could miss.

“Hello _Jim_ ,” the woman said, “nice to meet you.”

“Jim, I’d like you to meet Miss Ruth Matthews. She was just tellin’ me her husband, oh what was his name?”

Miss Grimshaw beamed down at John then snapped to Mrs. Geddes’ attention, “Oh, Melvin.”

Mrs. Geddes snapped her fingers. “Yes, Melvin. She was just tellin’ me her husband is meant to be arriving later today.”

John was petrified, happily so but still. He could only stare and gawk at the woman before him, the mother alpha that raised him. Even without her girls, it was a sight.

His mouth opened to speak but only a slow, throaty stammer emerged. What could he say? He thought he’d never see her again, thought the gang evaporated from the world to never come together again.

“Jim, it’s impolite to stare,” Miss Grimshaw, or Miss Matthews, said with a gentle pat to his shoulder.

John shut his mouth with a clack of his teeth then held his hand out. “N-nice to meet you, Miss Matthews.”

“Please,” Miss Grimshaw said, taking John’s hand in hers, letting him squeeze it and acknowledge that she was flesh-and-bones here. “Call me Ruth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!


	32. Disregard of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur welcome in the new arrivals, pushing past their past to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this isn't gut-wrenching, it's meant to be awkward or a bit uncomfortable. I'm sorry if you're not a fan. 
> 
> It's just a link to the past that will soon come to a close and I wanted to write it out. We're getting there, people. Don't you worry. 
> 
> We still have:  
> -another Arthur rut  
> -John giving birth  
> -happily ever after

John stood by, staring at a woman he had to pretend he hardly knew. A woman who raised him as best she could, a mother in her own sense of the word.

He hoped his own pup would never have to live that way though he knew nothing would make it that way.

“Jim, stop starin’,” Mrs. Geddes scolded with a swat of his arm.

John pulled his eyes from Miss Grimshaw, now wondering how the woman ever lugged the large bun on top of her head. It was cut now, just past her ears. The makeup she usually wore, with rouge dragged deep into the crevices of her cheeks, was more muted now.

A light swipe of pink over her cheeks, less eyeshadow for raccoon eyes and a pale lipstick made Miss Grimshaw look less of her age. All he wanted was for her to give him a hug, or a pat on the shoulder, acknowledge him with more than a handshake.

The day was spent with Mrs. Geddes showing Miss Matthews the pregnant horses, three in total. They returned inside with John following, going over the instruments for omega pregnancies.

He went green in the gills at the sight of the silver handle in Mrs. Geddes’ hand, excused himself to take down a few clothes from the clothesline. By the time lunch came, Mrs. Geddes excused John to help Miss Matthews with her husband’s arriving caravan.

John followed Susan to the gates, picking up his feet as the woman did the same. “Miss Grimshaw.”

“Hush boy,” Susan chided over her shoulder with the caravan wheeling in. “Why did it take you so long?”

“Well, I’m sorry, _dearest_. I had to get some more supplies for our travels,” the man on the front of the wagon pulled the reins to a halt. The sun beamed around his face as he removed his hat. “Hello John.”

“H-Hosea,” John uttered slowly.

“You look like you’ve been eatin’ well,” the beta said with a chuckle. Susan climbed up the front of the wagon and grabbed her fan from the first bag available. “Doesn’t he?”

“That pup weight looks good on you, son,” Susan said, unfurling her fan and batting her face with air. “No more skin and bones.”

Hosea hummed in agreement, hopping down from the wagon. “Now, where’s Arthur?”

“I-In the barn,” John thumbed over his shoulder before shaking his head. “But he’s Abe here and I’m Jim. The Callahans.”

“Smart boys,” Hosea said with a nod, resting a hand to John’s shoulder.

He stared into Hosea’s face, his wise thin eyes ever the same and judgmental stare at the ready. “How long are you stayin’?”

Hosea smiled softly, gave John’s shoulder a firm pat. “We’ll talk more later.”

Then he was off in the direction of the barn, picking up his feet at the decline of the land.

Arthur’s sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, sweat drenching the brim of his hat with his fifteenth bale of hay moved around the back of the lot.

Logs were the first thing in the morning, then the firewood, the hay, the stalls, the water for the horses. Wrangling the pigs into the pen, herding the sheep up yard all before noon and then getting a cheese sandwich, courtesy of Duncan Geddes.

He’d stopped at the sight of John walking uphill with the newest addition to the ranch, Miss Matthews. He was too busy to catch a glimpse of her, but Mrs. Geddes was adamant with showing the woman around, getting in the midst of his grunt work.

Now he was stopping again, a fool’s choice with the way his shoulders started to ache, to see the driver of the caravan talk with John. He narrowed his eyes, hoping to see his mate from the distance but failing.

Arthur set the hay bale down, rested his foot on it while he watched the small stranger from the caravan start his way down to the barn at full speed. He grabbed onto his hat, removed it to thoroughly wipe his brow while he waited for the stranger to approach.

“Mr. Callahan, is it?” The stranger’s footing never ceased while his familiar voice carried across the shortened distance.

“And who wants to know?” Arthur asked, standing upright, firmly planting his head on his head and staring menacingly at the approaching man.

That was until his menace melted into full familiarity. “Well I’ll be damned.”

“Small world, isn’t it, Abe?” Hosea finally slowed to a walk, taking a minute to catch his breath.

Arthur looked over his shoulder then back into the barn. “That it is, Mister…”

“Matthews. Melvin Matthews. And my wife, Ruth, is up there with your very pregnant mate.” Hosea nodded back in the direction of John with Miss Grimshaw.

“You got remarried?” Arthur quirked a brow, arms crossing.

Hosea waved the question away with a nonchalant huff. “It’s just a piece of paper. That Ruthie, an oldie but a good one.” He waved his hand for Arthur to move closer and the alpha obliged, leaning for the beta to whisper in his ear.

“You might remember her as Miss Grimshaw.”

Arthur couldn’t help the grin that grew on his lips from hearing her name, but he managed to draw back with a falter.

“It’s just the two of you, right?” He asked. “Your _sons_ aren’t anywhere around?”

Hosea pressed his lips together. “We’ll talk more on that later. You should help us with the caravan.”

Arthur opened the cabin door to John sitting at the table with Hosea and Miss Grimshaw, all of them guffawing between swaps of stories. Almost as if time paused and was picking up again.

Arthur grunted, stepping inside and shedding his hat, refastening his shirt, before he sat down at the table across from his mate.

With a lull, Miss Grimshaw’s cackling laughter lulled into a content sigh. She rested her hand on top of Arthur’s with a comforting pat with a turn to him.

“You look good too, Arthur. Though you two could go for a haircut.”

John pulled his hair back, untying it from the base of his head. “We hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Or ever, it seems.” Hosea added with a touch at John’s hair. “Susan, you still have the scissors, don’t you?”

Miss Grimshaw nodded, “You boys need it, lookin’ like wild mountain men.”

“I mean,” Arthur began, “That is where we’ve been.”

John spared Arthur a dry grin, with Hosea and Susan going stiff at the mention. They glossed over it, or tried to forget about it. Arthur slowly retracted his hand from under Susan’s, got up to kick off his boots.

“How far’dya get?” Hosea asked after a long pause, his head hung low and his back slouching in his chair.

Arthur hummed in thought, undoing his belt and resting it on the back of his chair. “Not too far. Up near a reservation, I think. They didn’t like us on their land, though.”

He flopped onto the bed and John’s eyes followed him, not showing any sway in the subject matter.

“You healed up nice,” Susan managed to say.

Arthur grunted, nodded over to John. “Thanks to Marston.”

John cleared his throat, turning to Hosea. “How’s everyone? Abigail?”

Hosea rested his arm atop the back of the chair. “Abigail’s fine. Her and Sadie were trying to hold out for you to come back, but when you didn’t, they were gone.”

John spared a look over to Arthur, who was now wiping his brow with his handkerchief. “What about Javier, Bill?”

Hosea’s face fell into more of a pout, his bottom lip jutting and close to a quiver. Susan huffed, already knowing the answer but still stunned in disbelief. Arthur scanned the pair’s faces, a snarl growing on his lips.

“What’d those dumbasses do?” Arthur asked, propping up his pillow and resting against the headboard.

“They tried to free the bastard,” Susan said lowly, another huff following.

Hosea’s hand went to massage his brow, disappointed in the truth. “They were tryin’ to free Dutch with the Lemoyne Raiders, but those damned idiots got the worst.”

Arthur crossed his arms tight before his chest. “I fuckin’ doubt it. Foolish.”

John was quiet, only listening and scanning between whomever was speaking. His eyes were too quick, making the scene a blur between catches of the story.

“Sean and Karen went back to his homeland. And last I heard, Charles was traveling up north.”

Arthur gave a quick nod, hoping it would be the cessation of the conversation. Everyone was gone, there was no more need for catching up. Whether or not they were family before all this, Hosea and Susan felt like strangers now.

The room filled with uncomfortable silence, the rampant mixed scent of the mates close to driving Hosea and Miss Grimshaw out. After so long apart, their stench was more of a deterrent, especially with the pup.

John sat upright in his seat, reached for Miss Grimshaw’s wrist as he felt a soft press to his stomach. “Here, feel.”

The omega muscled through the need to bark at Susan’s approaching hand even as it was guided by him. John strained his teeth while a growl began deep in his chest. He could do this, they had to feel the pup’s fluttersome kicking before the night was through. Where else could this conversation go?

It was right to mellow out the tension with the simple flush of the pup against John’s stomach. It was the least that could be done.

Arthur stared at John’s staggering movement, how he continued to pause and breathe deeply through his nose with the woman’s hand in his. He raised his brows, clambering off of the bed, and waited for John to push through his instinct.

John felt the heat of Susan’s hand as it conformed to the globe of his stomach. Three seconds would be enough. Then they could excuse themselves for the night and John would never have to bother with it again.

Arthur rounded the table, sank behind John’s chair and crossed an arm over John’s chest. He coaxed his mate to take a deep breath, close his eyes while he nosed the marked scent gland.

Susan’s eyes were wide while Hosea watched in slight disbelief. John did as he was told and Arthur urged Susan to rest her hand.

The alpha female did so, touching at the sensitive skin of John’s belly. Arthur cleared his throat, peered over John’s shoulder.

“Hey, little buck,” He soothed, his free hand resting atop Susan’s. “Come ‘n’ meet Miss Grimshaw.”

Arthur stared down at John’s belly with a press coming through. He felt it through Grimshaw’s palm to his, sating an itch he hadn’t acknowledged. John exhaled deeply, his hand going to rest on the opposite side of his stomach.

“Good pup,” John muttered lowly.

In an instant, Susan retracted her hand with a proud smile. She stared at her palm like it was touched by gold. Arthur stood up, releasing John with a soft praise and kiss on the top of his head.

“We should call it a night,” Hosea said, pushing up from his chair.

Susan agreed, following the beta out of the cabin. John shifted in his seat, looking up at Arthur stood behind him.

“We’ll see you two in the mornin’,” Susan added, picking up her skirt as she stepped out into the night, closing the door behind her.

Arthur’s hand snaked along John’s jaw, pulling his face back to look him in the eye. “You okay?”

John rolled his eyes casually, lids fluttering at the warm touch of his alpha. “We’re fine.”

“You didn’t have to do that. ‘Specially not with me right there,” Arthur said, leaning into John’s ear. “You lettin’ another alpha touch my pup?”

John scoffed, “She might as well be a kitty cat, Arthur. But jealousy’s a good color on you.” His arm snaked up Arthur’s forearm, grabbed his shirt and tugged him down.

Arthur growled uselessly with John suddenly worming his tongue into the alpha’s ear. Arthur’s hardened exterior cracked immediately, reduced to laughing at his mate’s sloppy tongue licking the shell of his ear.

The air was theirs once again, leaving Arthur to relax his shoulders before his knees started to buckle at John’s incoming affections.

The next day went by normally, with Hosea helping in the yard by narrowly avoiding Arthur and Arthur fully ignoring him. They were past them, looking forward to their own lives.

Hosea tried time and again for Arthur’s attention but was shot down by the alpha lugging drifts of wood to the south side of the farm for a fence that was being built.

John kept to the same technique, becoming Mrs. Geddes’ shadow in chores that were his speed. The next scheduled omega birth would be in a weeks’ time and John planned to not be there.

He cleaned Mrs. Geddes’ supplies, even went in town with Hosea to pick up medicine and sterile alcohol. But no words were shared between them. Returning to camp, John made it a note to stop by Arthur, nuzzle against the sweaty alpha as long as he could before going back to his duties.

They were better off not knowing the wellbeing of the others, but even now, the attachment was worn thin.

Though the Geddes’ had no problems with new ranch hands, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews’ announced their stay would be short, just until the first sign of winter. Otherwise they’d never make it down south before the brunt of storms.

Arthur marked the time down in his calendar, collected his and John’s funds and squirreled them away. They’d leave around that time as well, before they got stuck in snow with a pup and nowhere to go.

That would be his promise.

“Callahan, we need yer help over here!” Arthur was called with a wave and a whistle to the southside of the farm.

He stopped in his hammering of the fence post, looked over his shoulder with a swipe of his brow.

“Put that fence down and get over here!” Dickens called out, waving wildly from the cattle yard.

Arthur rushed over to see three men pushing at a stubborn bull. He stifled a sudden fit of laughter, his only thought going to John in the morning.

And if his mate heard him say it aloud, he’d surely get a swat in the chest.

“Come on, give us a hand. Know much about bulls, Callahan?” Dickens asked, standing at the head of the bull.

Now the man was surely testing him, causing Arthur snort lowly.

“Just the basics, don’t make ‘em mad.” _And don’t wake him early_.

Dickens quickly introduced Arthur to Angus Geddes, the oldest beta son of the Geddes’. The boy at the front, holding the rope of the bull raised his hand in an introduction.

“Mr. Callahan,” he said.

“Call me Abe. Mr. Callahan’s the other one,” Arthur quipped with a smile, nodding in the direction of the house.

“Right.” Angus squared his shoulders. “Haven’t met him yet.”

“I’d say hold off on that. He’s…not fond of new people.” Arthur added, dropping the conversation with a stern look from Dickens. “Well, let’s try movin’ this bulk a chuck.”

Arthur stood by, with Dickens trying to push the bull forward from its neck. When that didn’t work, he moved around the back, gave its rear a firm slap.

The bull reared up, charged for Angus then high-kicked Dickens away square in the chest. Arthur rushed after the now free beast, scrambling and kicking low to retrieve the long-dropped rope.

The beast rushed for the south fence, narrowly missing it when Arthur finally grabbed hold, standing his ground as best he could. With a few hardened steps in the dirt and a scuffle of dust, the bull mooed aggressively, changing wind and heading up the farm yard.

John sat by on the porch, airing out more of Mrs. Geddes’ towels, as he noticed the incoming commotion from the south yard. He stood up, squinted at the distance to make out a stray bull charging up the field.

Arthur picked up his feet, rushing after the bull only to quickly veer, bodying the back half of the beast to change direction. He fell in the opposite direction as the bull charged left, back in the direction of the cattle yard.

John stared, wide-eyed, at his mate forcing the beast in another direction then eating dirt. He stood up at the edge of the porch.

“Arthur! You alright?” John asked, using his hand cupped at his mouth to carry.

Arthur quickly sat up, brushed himself off and gave John an affirmative wave. “I’m fine, Darlin’! Nothin’ to worry ‘bout!” He yelled, going back after the bull and leaving John to watch the spectacle from a safe distance.

John rolled his eyes, watching the stubborn bull of a man go after his counterpart. He was entranced in it now, raising up on his haunches to get a good look as Arthur took on the beast.

Arthur grabbed onto the rope again, this time pulling from the front of the bull. The beast scuffed its hooves while it tried to back away a second time. Arthur stood strong against it, with it going wild two more times before finally satiable.

“Come on, boy,” Arthur said, grabbing hold of the rope again.

He slowly pulled the hearty beast across the yard, up to the stables. John eased himself back to sitting with Arthur walking up the farm length, beast in tow.

He offered a whistle in praise, two of his fingers forced to either side of his mouth. “Atta boy, Big Daddy! You show that hunk of chuck who’s boss!”

Arthur hid the blush on his cheeks with a tip of his hat, grinning giddily at the outward praise from his mate. Inside the barn, Arthur stopped, seeing Dickens and the youngling beta.

He tipped back his hat and cleared his throat. “Got ‘im, Mr. Dickens.”

“Good,” the overseer said, giving his beard a tender stroke as he eyed over the alpha then the bull.

Angus stood by the open fence, allowing Arthur to guide the bull inside. He gave a nod to the beta youngling. “Yer head alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Angus said. “Thank you, er, Abe.”

Arthur grumbled in a way of answering, pulling the bull into the open stable then releasing the rope from its neck. He moseyed out of way, slipping through the closing gate. Dickens took that as an appropriate exit, stating that he’d see Arthur later.

Angus stood by, arms crossed with a childish grin. Arthur looked over at the boy, back to the bull.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur asked, hands going into his pockets.

Angus quickly jolted to a stop, his smile wiping away in an instant. Though Arthur wasn’t trying to be intimidating, the aura was enough. Sure, the blush from praise was across his face but it melded with the sweat, chalking up a face that was downright worked in the heat.

“Nothin’ sir,” Angus said, ducking away and following Dickens out of the back of the barn.

Arthur furrowed his brows then turned and walked back out of the barn. John was back to his task, chewing absentmindedly at his lip.

John followed Arthur inside the cabin, his body a whole ache. He’d barely eaten his dinner before he was clambering off to bed, rolling his tight shoulders and complaining about his tussle with the bull.

“Shouldn’t’ve headbutted the thing, that’s fer sure,” John mused, following his mate to bed with a tender stroking of his back.

Arthur groaned. “He coulda torn up the whole yard. He coulda got to you.” He sank to the edge of the bed, hearing it creak under his weight.

“Now that wouldn’t’ve happened. I was practically inside.” John did the same, hand going for the crick in Arthur’s neck. “You just like actin’ reckless for the sake a showin’ off.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment, then turned to John with a confident grin. “Yeah, yer right. Did it work?”

John rolled his eyes. “Got to bed.” He playfully shoved his alpha to the bed then reached for his boots.

“John, you ain’t gotta do that,” Arthur said, folding an arm over his face. “I’ll be fine. Just gimme a minute.”

John sat by, stared at Arthur’s chest rising and falling steadily. He slid a hand up over the alpha’s stomach, prying apart the stray buttons of his dress shirt and admiring his stomach.

The new scars that decorated his skin with pale patches of shine, all of them small except for the gunshot wound in Arthur’s side. He shut his eyes, traced along Arthur’s ribs and the center of his chest before resting his head to the man’s stomach.

Arthur groaned lowly, his free hand resting atop John’s head. “I like ‘Big Daddy’.” He smiled lazily, his fingers starting to rake along John’s long hair.

“Don’t expect it often,” John retorted with a smile to Arthur’s stomach.

He turned his lips to the alpha’s hot skin, gave it a light kiss, and Arthur hummed in response.


	33. Like a Fiddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur wakes up to his rut setting in, John tries to help but it fails. 
> 
> Later on that day, John decides to put Arthur out of his misery, somewhat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO LIKES AWKWARD? no one? 
> 
> WELL, YOU'RE GONNA HATE THE FIRST PART OF THIS CHAPTER. maybe the whole chapter.

Arthur woke up to red in the corners of his vision. He tried to blink it away, rubbing the heel of his palm between his eyes before it hit him. John’s leg draped against his waist; Arthur cleared his throat with the offending sweet scent aerating.

“J-John,” Arthur began, his voice barely above a croak.

John’s face was buried in Arthur’s neck, hand holding onto his shoulder and nuzzling closer. Arthur’s hand trailed down John’s back, reveling in his warm, tanned skin. He buried his nose in his mate’s hairline, tried to stave off the rut for a little longer.

With another opening of his eyes, Arthur adjusted to the darkness outside. John was slowly coming awake with a groan, his hand trailing down Arthur’s body.

“You okay?” John asked, sleep tainting his voice.

Arthur stomached the growing itch along his back, pooling in his stomach, as his hand curved along John’s hip and grabbed a handful of his backside. John’s eyes opened, staring across the alpha’s chest then up at Arthur.

“My rut’s settin’ in,” Arthur muttered, his hand pinching at the bridge of his nose.

John perked up slightly, resting his chin on Arthur’s chest. He glanced over his shoulder to the window, saw it was still dark. “We got some time.”

Arthur looked down at John, a nervous grin on his lips while his hand massaged at the flesh in his hold. “You sure?”

“If it’ll get you through the day,” John whispered, shifting further onto his alpha. He wasn’t put off by Arthur’s confession.

John hitched a leg over Arthur’s waist, slowly bucking his hips against his mate. Arthur growled, taking grip of John’s hips while he threw his head back into the pillow.

“John…” Arthur said, withholding a grunt at John’s slick rubbing along his hardened cock. “I-I can get through it without ya.”

“Bullshit.” John leaned forward, his dark hair falling around his face. He pressed his chest to Arthur’s, his lips tempting the alpha in a kiss.

Arthur groaned, a hand going up to touch John’s belly. “What about—”

John scoffed in amusement, his nose nuzzling against Arthur’s. “They’re fine.”

Arthur was still hard to convince, even with John grinding against him, so openly ready. John ducked his head down to press his lips to Arthur’s ear.

“Come on, Big Daddy,” John whispered, lust trickling into Arthur’s ear. “Breed me.”

The words jolted through Arthur, fueling the red to seep into his vision. His hold on John’s hips tightened, moving his mate closer to him. The heat built up in his chest, his hand going up John’s back and brought him impossibly closer.

Arthur grunted, looking into John’s dark eyes with a shared breath. John nodded, bracing his knees to the bed as Arthur grabbed his hips tighter.

With guiding hands, Arthur brought John down on him. John gasped, his forehead resting against Arthur’s. His hand went for Arthur’s shoulder, minding every inch of his mate sliding in.

Arthur began a leisurely pace, pulling John’s hips up then down with calculated thrusts. John hummed, both arms curling around Arthur’s neck while he moaned against his lips.

John followed Arthur’s movements, rocking his hips once again with shivers of pleasure roaming along his back. Arthur watched his omega move, the shadow in the room slowly fading to before dawn.

John sat up from Arthur, his back arching with Arthur hitting a sweet spot. More slick trickled free, coating more of Arthur’s waist. The alpha followed his mate’s movements, his face planted in John’s plushy chest as his hands raked up his back.

His mouth opened, tongue dragging up John’s skin before taking one of his nipples. John hissed inwardly, dropping his head and combing his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

He whispered words of praise, still rocking against Arthur’s throbbing cock while his head lolled back. Arthur sucked tenderly, lining his teeth over John’s sensitive nip.

“A-Arthur, stop,” John muttered, his fingers clenching to pull the alpha from him.

Arthur was entranced in the act, how John’s chest gently twitched at each lapping of his tongue. He sucked again, causing John to bury his nose in Arthur’s hair.

“S-stop that…” John tried again, only for Arthur to give another suck with a quick spurt of sweet to coat his tongue.

John gripped Arthur’s hair, pulling the mate away with contorted look of frustration and mortification. The alpha laughed softly, an innocent grin spreading on his lips while he sloshed his tongue lazily.

“Was that…”

“You say one word, Arthur Morgan, and I’ll maul you where you lay,” John said, folding a hand over his face. His cheeks started to burn in embarrassment, his nipple now stung at the cold of the room.

The red in Arthur’s vision dissipated softly, his hands on John’s hips loosening their hold. “Aww, you want me to kiss it better?”

“No!” John’s other hand went for his abused nipple, holding it and hissing inwardly at its sensitivity.

“I’m sorry, Darlin’,” Arthur said, leaning in to duck his head to John’s scent gland. “Not even a little pet at it?”

“Arthur…” John’s tone warned though he wanted to admit it didn’t hurt terribly. It wasn’t enough to pull him from the mood.

Arthur tried to make up for the morning’s awkward fumble with letting John sleep in, though he was almost certain the omega was milking the moment.

John rolled over with a groan, almost an hour after Arthur was dressed and done with his coffee.

“Hey,” John said lowly, propping his head up on his elbow. “You gonna be okay?”

Arthur spared a dry chuckle. The red in his vision was miniscule, barely clouding the corners. He’d manage for the day so long as he wasn’t pressed.

“Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?” Arthur asked, pushing to his feet and walking over to the bed. He leaned over John, gave him a once over before realizing the reddened ring around his nipple. “Still nursin’ my love bite?”

John folded his arms over his head with a hum. “You can’t be usin’ teeth like that, Arthur.”

Arthur sat down on the bed, crossed his arm over John’s waist. He leaned in, pressed a light kiss to his mate’s chest. “But you liked it a little…”

John hid the roll of his eyes, Arthur’s warm breath wafting over his skin. He tried to ignore the ache between his hips, the slick trickling out. They’d left it so unsatisfying.

“Even if I did, they ain’t for you,” John said, folding a hand over his face. He couldn’t believe he had to tell Arthur this. “Only fer the pup.”

“I don’t care about the milk, I just wanna see you squirm when I suck on ‘em.” Arthur nosed at John’s plushy pectoral, receiving a gentle swat against his forehead.

“Stop bein’ nasty. Go to work,” John said, hiding a smile behind the swipe of his hand.

Arthur grumbled, sitting up again. “You wanna try again later?”

John folded his index finger up to his brow, peeked between his fingers. “We’ll see.”

Arthur grinned immediately, cutting the distance to peck John’s cheek. “I’ll take it.”

John followed after Arthur’s lips, dropping his hands to look into his mate’s eyes. Of course, he couldn’t see it, the rut setting in the corners of Arthur’s vision. He nudged his nose to Arthur’s, his hand taking grip of the older outlaw’s wrist.

“Don’t work too hard,” John mused, guiding Arthur’s hand under the covers and to the fur between his hips.

Arthur hummed in interest, catching glance of his hand disappearing under the covers before he felt John’s hot slickened well. He groaned in frustration, his mind suddenly dwelling back to wanting to mount.

He tried to force his work to the forefront, damn it. But between the unfulfilling morning and the tempting slick of John, Arthur was about to risk being late.

“John…” Arthur whined, a first for the alpha as John urged Arthur to slip a finger in. “Yer not playin’ fair.”

“Tough shit,” John whispered, catching Arthur’s lips in a light kiss. He rutted his hips once, coating Arthur’s fingers with more slick.

Arthur regrettably pulled away, two of his fingers glistening. He sneered softly, popping his fingers into his mouth to pacify the itch growing in the pit of his stomach.

He pushed to his feet, adjusting himself in his pants. “I’ll getcha back fer this.”

Arthur tried to focus, but his mind kept falling back to instinct. His work was left to be desired, missing a slab of wood entirely, wedging the axe in the stump.

He blinked, stared at his job while his mouth was fuzzy with the remnants of honey. Arthur picked up the axe, tried to relax his shoulders and focus on the dark wood before him while John was in the corners of his mind.

By lunch, Arthur was behind in his daily chores, refreshing water and feeding the cows. He was left trailing after John’s scent on the farm, his mate sitting by in the shade, folding up clothes from the line then feeding the pigs and chickens.

John held onto the bucket of feed, walking around the back of the barn to return it to the storage shelf. From the inside of the empty barn, aside from the animals, Arthur shoveled shit into the wagon but stopped at John ducking inside.

“Hey, good lookin’.” Arthur whistled, leaning against the handle of his pitchfork. He flashed a grin in John’s direction, swallowing the pooling of drool in his mouth.

John glanced over his shoulder to Arthur, smiled in return. “Hey, sugar. How ya feelin’?”

Arthur’s heart soared and sank in an instant, floored by John’s husky voice with his sweet tone. _He’d never called me that before_.

And now all he wanted was to be called that. The alpha flustered, the handle fumbling under his hold. Arthur jerked, overcompensated for his sudden clumsiness. John folded his lips in at Arthur reaching for the nearby stable to right himself.

“G-good, good. You doin’ okay?” Arthur coolly, leaned against the stable, letting the pitchfork lean against the wheelbarrow.

John nodded, his hands free to rub at his pregnant belly. “We’re fine. Gonna have ourselves a little lunch. You wanna join us?”

Arthur eagerly shot up, catching onto John’s scent with a new grumble in his stomach. “Y-yeah. You goin’ back to the cabin?”

John agreed with a hum, nodding over his shoulder. “You comin’?”

Arthur started after his mate, kicking the pitchfork in the process. _Damn it._ He reached down to pick up his pitchfork. “Gimme a minute.”

John stopped in the doorway of the barn. “Don’t make me wait.”

Arthur didn’t know how to take that, his body perking at the sweet that dripped from John’s voice. He felt hopeless, ready to lift off of his feet and follow after his mate’s sweet scent like the butterflies in his stomach.

Him acting so helplessly in with John, even after what happened earlier that morning. Arthur put it to the side, unsure how their lunch would go as he finished his chore.

Wiping his hands, he left the wheelbarrow in the corner of the barn then doubled back to the cabin. He opened the door, expecting to see John sitting at the table with cheese sandwiches.

“John?” Arthur asked, a hand quickly grabbing the front of his shirt and a force pushing him to the edge of the table.

John grinned devilishly, a knee hiking up to the edge of the table while he leaned Arthur back on the table. “Howdy, partner.”

The omega climbed onto Arthur, his back firmly on the wood table, and straddled the alpha’s waist. Arthur’s mind went wild, the sight of John gripping firmly at the front of his shirt while climbing onto him, shirt unbuttoned, long hair wild.

“H-hey,” Arthur choked out, his heart thumping.

This was definitely a plus to the day. John pulled Arthur’s shirt open, his lips immediately going for the alpha’s nipple.

Arthur broke into a chuckle, one that evolved into a choking moan. He wanted to laugh almost, the feral omega suckling at his nipple and nibbling at his chest. All of it was fueling the rut to saturate his vision with scarlet, John’s hair tickling over his face as he trailed his lips to Arthur’s other nipple.

“Hey, hey, slow down, where you goin’?” Arthur remembered his hands could touch at his plushy mate, feel up John’s thighs and knead at his soft backside.

He craned his head up, staring down at John sucking heartily on his pec. Arthur hadn’t even noticed the smaller kisses, or love bites, John gave him in the middle of his chest. His skin was now speckled with red bites and wet marks.

“Hush and enjoy the ride,” John muttered, releasing Arthur’s chest with a huff. A string of his spit trailed down his bottom lip and, _goddamn_ , did he want to maul John to the floor.

Arthur still groaned, slightly displeased that he couldn’t do the same to John. He was a natural giver, anything but selfish. John sat up, caught Arthur’s eyes with a wink.

He pressed his lips down the middle of Arthur’s chest, trailing sloppy kisses down to his pants waistband. Arthur propped up on his elbows with John sliding off of him, gripping his mate’s pants and tugging them down.

“John,” Arthur began, embarrassed, hard cock springing free in his omega’s face.

John held the bundle of Arthur’s pants in his hands, the alpha’s feet bracing the floor. He stared down the length before him, opening his mouth slightly and cradling the tip with his tongue.

Arthur lost his breath, sitting up further as his hand rested on John’s head. He didn’t pull him away, or towards him, just tried to stabilize himself against John’s lips closing around his tip.

“John,” Arthur warned, feeling his body rev further with the warmth of his mate’s mouth.

This was new. His stomach contorted in a bundle, eyes squeezed shut though he knew the room was blinded with red. All he could focus on was the feeling of John on him and the slight scent of slick in the air.

John opened his mouth wider, sliding more of Arthur in slowly. Arthur refrained from bucking his hips with John’s lips curling around him.

John forced his tongue out along the underside, curling against it and tracing along the vein before pulling back. He tried a soft pace, eyes flicking up to look at Arthur’s strained face.

The alpha’s grip tightened slightly in John’s hair, only following his mate’s head bobbing back and forth. He tried to breath steadily, only for it come out shaky.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes, spared a glance down to John in the haze and catching his eye in the process. He quickly caved, almost bowing over himself and his mate as he came.

John froze, hot seed pooling in his mouth and trickling down his throat, with Arthur’s dick twitching in his mouth. He waited, still staring up, as cum shot out and he swallowed generously.

The red began to evaporate slightly, giving Arthur a clear mind. Arthur’s hand cradled John’s full cheek, the corners of his mouth housing a mix of spit and seed. “Goddamn. I do not deserve you, John Marston.”

John wanted to laugh, mouth still full while he swallowed the last of Arthur. The alpha took grip of his cock, holding it tight at the base to keep a knot from forming.

The omega unclamped his mouth, swiping his face clean with the back of his hand, then stood. “Don’t you go and say that.”

John rested his hands on either side of Arthur on the table, leaned in to peck his mate’s lips. “And we ain’t finished yet.”

Arthur hummed inquisitively, his hands going for John’s waist. John leaned further, putting Arthur back on the table. He shrugged off his suspenders, let his pants fall to his ankles before kicking them off his boots.

“We gotta get back to work,” Arthur said, sitting up as John climbed onto him. The slick moistened the air, the scent driving more red into Arthur’s vision.

“In a minute,” John growled playfully, leaning over his alpha with his hips hovering over Arthur’s stiffened cock.

His hand cupped Arthur’s bearded cheek, dark eyes searching the entranced stare of cerulean. “Breed me.”

Arthur sneered, baring his sharpening canines while his hand gripped at John’s hips. John used his free hand to guide Arthur inside of him with slick gushing out. The omega moaned, dropping his head to Arthur’s shoulder the more he sank down. Arthur lost focus, his eyes crossing with the warmth sheathing him.

John tried to mutter ‘fuck’, but his mouth stuck on the ‘f’ drawing it out. With a stray touch to his clit, he tensed, and Arthur exhaled with a surprised moan.

John forced his hand to the side of Arthur’s head, sitting up as he angled his hips to start a pace. Arthur’s hands gripped tighter at John’s hips, following his pace with languid thrusts and driving more slick.

“Arthur~” John grizzled, sinking down on the alpha again. Both hands rested on Arthur’s chest, sliding his omegan nails along his skin.

Arthur snorted in response, bucking his hips up in time with John. The coil tightened between them, strumming eagerly as the heat grew in the room.

John soon seized, doubled over his mate to hide his face in Arthur’s neck, moaning and twitching in orgasm. Arthur was quick behind him, John’s hot walls contracting and milking him through ecstasy. He curled an arm around John’s waist, planting him firmly as the knot swelled.

The red dissipated from Arthur’s vision, fading to the corners of his vision as he blinked. His hands crossed over John’s back with an exhale. John groaned, nuzzling at Arthur’s mark with a casual roll of his hips.

Arthur’s hand pulled John’s hair from his face; he leaned in and pressed his lips to the omega’s temple. John’s eyes fluttered closed, reveling in the warmth of his mate before his eyes shot open.

He sat up quickly, almost too fast, causing Arthur to follow after in a disturbed jolt. John folded his arms over his face.

“What, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, watching John groan and writhe on him.

“We gotta go back to work, dammit,” John said, looking down at his stomach.

Arthur’s hand trailed down and around to cradle his mate’s rounded belly. “We got time, I promise. They ain’t gonna miss us for a little bit.”

“Funny how you say that now but before you were _so_ worried about work.” John teased, rutting his hips once.

Arthur groaned, resting his head back before pushing himself upright. “You keep doin’ that, you won’t be goin’ back to work.”

“Ooh, scary threat comin’ from a slick-whipped alpha,” John said, leaning in with his lips brushing against Arthur’s. “Who’s in charge, right now?”

“Ain’t I Big Daddy?” Arthur grinned softly, interrupted with a kiss from John.

“That don’t change,” John whispered, rutting his hips again. He rested his arms over Arthur’s shoulders.

“Is this gettin’ back at me?” Arthur tried to keep his eyes on John, only looking back down at his mate’s scarred lips shrouded with his dark beard.

“Not yet it ain’t. I still get two more days of you like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry, filler chapter until I figure out more timeline things. We're getting there, esteemed guests.


	34. Appreciate That Unadulterated Wallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur sweats out his rut with John by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, are you in for some fluff. Bet you didn't expect a fluff, did you? We can't always bring thunder, we need some cute clouds too.

Arthur woke up on the last morning of his rut, sore in his shoulders. He shifted slightly, with John draped over him in a dead sleep.

He folded his hand over his brow, massaged it with a groan as John’s hand down his chest. The omega’s nails raked against his skin, reminding him of the love bites and scratches peppering his chest. Tilting his head back, Arthur looked through the window to the approaching dawn.

After three days, Arthur managed to sweat out most of his rut even after John offered to help. John could only go for two rounds a day, leaving Arthur to stave off his carnal desires during farm work though he was hooked on his mate.

His other arm curled around John’s waist, Arthur gave his mate a squeeze then pressed his lips to John’s forehead.

John groaned in response, nuzzling closer in Arthur’s hold. “Gimme ten more minutes then I’ll do whatever you want.”

Arthur snickered, looking at his exhausted omega. “You don’t have to do that, just wanna squeeze ya.”

John hummed, a raspy noise making its way up his throat. “’Preciate that, sugar.”

Arthur felt his heart clench at the word, his nose lining along John’s hair. _Damn you for being so…you._ He pressed his lips to John’s forehead again.

“Go back to sleep,” Arthur whispered, with John only curling hard into his side.

_Arthur refused to sit still, even as the water began to boil over the fire. He was fine, he’d told Susan and Hosea so many times while he couldn’t feel his hands in his gloves._

_He was going to go out there and find John if it were with his last breath._

_“No, I ain’t sittin’ no more,” Arthur said, pushing himself to stand in the bucket of hot water defrosting his feet._

_He was going to risk this for John’s safety, he’d risk everything to say more to the omega than he could’ve._

_“Arthur, please,” Mary-Beth pleaded, her small hand clasping at his shoulder. “You’ll catch yer death out there.”_

_“I’ll be fine.” Arthur forced his feet into his boots and grabbed his hat again, adjusting his bandana and borrowed scarf from Abigail around his throat._

_“You ain’t goin’ alone,” Tilly offered._

_Arthur looked around the cabin to any takers, mainly Bill and Charles. Without another second to spare, he went to the door in a huff and threw it open to the bright morning._

_He’d let time get the best of him. He’d gotten sidetracked and left John out in the cold for another night. Arthur cursed himself inside, his stomach tying and sizzling with angry acid lapping up his throat._

_His nose pinched in anguish and he bit it away with a swipe into his shoulder. Without a word, Arthur stepped into the bright landscape. A hand clasped his shoulder, Javier._

_“I’ll come with you. Can’t have you getting stuck out there too.” The stoic alpha added, handing over a sawed-off shotgun before walking to the horses. “You’ll have to use one of the wagon horses.”_

_Arthur abided, mounted the steed and pocketed the gun, following Javier out of camp before the pull in his chest took lead. He clicked his tongue, forcing his horse to trot ahead of Javier, following blindly the reeling line planted firmly in him._

_Javier was quiet, following his alpha brother across the snow-covered mountains until they reached where he’d found Arthur the night before._

_“He’s up there,” Arthur said breathlessly, his mask damp from his breath and quickly chilling. “We better hurry.”_

_With a slap of the rein, Arthur pushed the horse uphill, struggling in the snow until they couldn’t go any further._

_“J-John!” Arthur yelled, climbing off of his horse and staring over the ledge camouflaged before him. “John, where are you?”_

_Javier dimounted, brandished his gun and Arthur held a hand out for him to be still. He leaned in no particular direction, waiting to hear the rasp of a man abandoned._

_John was awake long before the sun as he attempted to stave off the cold. Old Boy managed to keep him company until the wolves ascended from the river. He kept a few at bay with a few warning shots, feverishly searching his saddlebag for more ammunition. Now he was huddled on a ledge, holding tight to the scratches at his arms, hot blood trickling through his frostbitten fingers._

_He fought off the urge to sleep with the thought of music. The lame, ragtime music that rushed out of the saloon. John had to think of more things, the buzz of summer, the smell of bourbon…Arthur…_

_The voice carried across the snow, bringing back the sudden yapping and snarling of wild dogs. “H-hey, hey! I’m here! Help!”_

_Arthur’s ear pricked at the noise, his body hardening to stone. For a moment, he no longer felt, he just was. He rushed along the ledge, with Javier following after, ducking under the rock shelf and coming out the other side to more area to climb._

_“Marston!” Arthur offered as he pulled himself up to hide behind another cliff shelf._

_The wind began to whip in his face, cracking over his nose and cutting into his eyes, making the whole mission all the more unbearable. For John, he would suffice. At least to hear from him that he was the worst man on earth._

_It always did Arthur’s ego good to have a bit of dirt rubbed in it. He rubbed at his forearms, cracked his stiffening fingers as Javier stopped to do the same. It had to be a little further._

_“John!” Arthur yelled, coming out of the other side of the ridge, greeted with even harsher whips to the face. “John, where are you?”_

_John folded over himself, curled in and held the remaining warmth of himself together. “I’m here! Out on the ledge!”_

_He looked behind him, saw the wild dogs had diminished. Arthur could smell it now, the blood in the air as it began to speckle the well-tracked snow. Picking up his feet, Arthur slid down the snowy decline and peered over the final ledge before it to see….John._

_John looked up again, caught Arthur’s eye. The tug in his chest pulled harshly, like a rough barbed wire dragging across his skin. The blinking of Arthur’s crystalline eyes, his now avoiding glance._

_Arthur couldn’t bare the sight of him. He’d done it. Jaw tightening, Arthur turned away and tried to bite away the gut-wrench of guilt within him. The acid lapping at his throat was now clawing, gnawing through the soft tissue of his belly, making him want to keel forward and mar his face in solidarity._

_What kind of man was he to let John get hurt like this?_

_“That’s a nasty scar you got there,” Javier said, breaking the silence between the two._

_John tried a dry scoff, only whittling out a cough in response. Arthur’s shoulders bunched, tormenting and boiling from the inside._

_“Nice to see you too, Javier,” John said finally with Arthur biting at his tongue to keep from lashing out._

_He slipped down the ledge, took a knee next to John and saw close-up the bruising under John’s eye, the deep scratches on his cheek, the beaten-down flush of his skin. And now the sudden rush of blood, gushing through John’s gloved fingers._

_Arthur wanted to touch him, but John looked fragile. He felt that he’d break the man by breathing on him._

_“You don’t look so good,” Arthur whispered._

_“I don’t feel so good either,” John said with a cough to follow. “I’m freezin’.”_

_Arthur stood, grabbed onto John’s wrists and hoisted him over his shoulder. “We’ll get you somewhere warm soon.”_

_John groaned at the force, his wounded arm freely bleeding against the cold winds. Still, the warmth bundled inside Arthur was welcoming and the tug in his chest was wound tight at the alpha’s aiding touch._

_“Easy,” Arthur coaxed, his voice lowering an octave from high-strung. Javier took notice, grabbed under John’s arms and held him up as Arthur climbed back._

_John kept his woozy balance long enough for Arthur to hoist him over his shoulder again, getting as comfortable as he could on the alpha’s muscular shoulder._

_“Ain’t you a sorry sight,” Arthur said lowly, his throat now clamping shut within close proximity._

_“Can’t…argue with you there,” John managed to say, his ribs compressing to Arthur’s shoulder, the arm curling over his thighs becoming a welcoming comfort._

_Arthur pushed up the hill, following Javier another way back to the horses. He sniffled once, twice, before he took notice of the wet heady scent filling the air._

_John pressed his knees together, refusing to acknowledge his body besides the pain in his arm. Nothing else mattered right now. The trek back to the horses was long and uninterrupted, leaving John to slip into the warmth of sleep on Arthur’s back._

_“I can take him back,” Javier offered, grabbing onto his horse’s rein and hitching his boot._

_Arthur didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to spend this time with John until the man came to and told him the truth, told him it was his fault._

_“Nah, we’re good here. But you lead the way,” Arthur said, hoisting the injured omega onto his horse then mounting up._

_John hissed at the rough treatment of his body, coming to with his head lolled on a warm shoulder._

_“Don’t you die on me,” Arthur muttered, an arm crossed over John’s back, holding the man close to his body as he managed to control the rein._

_“I’m livin’ just t’spite you,” John joked darkly, his voice falling deeply into a rasp._

Arthur squeezed again, collected and reveled in the warmth that John gave off now. John did it so much so that he’d kicked the comforter to the foot of the bed, leaving Arthur to suffer with a calf covered and his chest and waist draped in omega.

He almost forgot how he’d gotten here, where he went right after what he knew was a life of wrong. Arthur tried not to think about it, the thought suddenly pinching at his nose again.

John’s mouth fell open with a low snore, spittle warming its way out and pooling against Arthur’s chest. Arthur smiled softly, his thumb swiping away the drool before tracing the scars on John’s cheek.

Why did it take him so long to say it? Why was that the most difficult for him to digest? This man saw him for the depraved bad man he was but didn’t shy away from it.

John knew Arthur’s grit from long ago, he’d adapted to it. Why wouldn’t Arthur love him for that? Was Arthur selfish in that way, to not adapt sooner to accommodate John?

He made the mental note of making their nest again, learning how to make buttermilk and cleaning up more when John asked him to. Why wasn’t he bending more to this man’s will already?

John was going to be the father of his child. He would marry this man yesterday if he could. Arthur took a shaky breath in, then out and shut his eyes. Now he was over-feeling.

Rut was meant to be about aggression, _damn it_ , but all Arthur could wallow in was unadulterated love for John freakin’ Marston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now originally this entire chapter was going to be inspired by WAP, but....guys, I'm tired. I'm so sorry, I am so tired of the pwp rn, I'm just wanting some cute shit that will make me believe in love.


	35. Fatherhood, for Beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall has come and gone, life moves on. Arthur talks to Geddes about Beecher's Hope. 
> 
> John and Arthur welcome a new member to the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD GOD, THE MOMENT NOBODY'S BEEN WAITING FOR. LET'S GET INTO IT ALREADY.

The last leaf fell when Mr. and Mrs. Matthews loaded up their caravan. They’d told Mr. Geddes of their need for greener pastures, moving on to new cities to make new names for themselves.

It wasn’t without a hitch in the morning, with the brisk autumnal air having a harsh bite in it. With a few handshakes and a loving pat to Arthur’s shoulder, they were ready to set off for new adventures.

“Oh, Mr. Callahan,” Miss Grimshaw said, stopping before she climbed onto the wagon.

Arthur turned in his gait, watching at the elder alpha rummaged through her pockets for a folded piece of yellowed paper.

“It might be a little too late, what with the cravings and all, but this is for Jim.” Susan held the paper out for Arthur to take, waiting for the man to unfold it. “Unfortunately, I had to ask Mrs. Geddes about some ingredients. Do you know how hard it is to find nutmeg? Unheard of.”

Arthur quirked a brow, undoing the hefty piece of paper and staring at the wad of bills stuffed nicely over the chicken scratch on the paper before folding it back. This was long overdue. “Thank you, Mrs. Matthews.”

Susan nodded, her hands folding up in her apron before her arms came out and draped over Arthur’s broad shoulders in a hug. “You take care of my boy.”

Arthur remained stone, gave the woman a kind pat on the back. They were nobody’s boys anymore.

John refrained from seeing them off, struggling to force his feet into his boots and standing in the doorway. He held a hand out in a wave, arm crossed over the top of his stomach while holding his jacket closed.

It was about their time to move on as well.

_John heard from the Geddes’ boy that a farm downwind of Blackwater was for sale, just along the lush line of New Haven._

_“I dunno, John. Blackwater?” Arthur paced before the dining table, hands on his hips while he clicked his tongue in thought._

_“An acre of land, Arthur.” John retrieved the paper from Mrs. Geddes, it now folded open on the ad for the land._

_He pointed at it, the paper rustling under his eager touch. This was what they were hoping for, this was another step in the right direction._

_“I heard you, but what if they see us?” Arthur stopped in way of the window, morning sun haloing around him._

_“We’re innocent men now,” John said with reassurance. “We don’t even look like the same men.”_

_Arthur scoffed in amusement though his pacing continued. “Are we even there yet with the money?”_

_John hoped he’d asked, a sly grin on his lips. “We’re there. We just need the credit.”_

_“And where we gonna get that?” Arthur asked, stopping again to look at John, holding his chin in his hand and staring at Arthur. “What?”_

_“We’re workin’ for Mr. Geddes, don’tchu think we could ask him?”_

_Arthur was quiet, mulling over the thought before he agreed that he’d talk to their boss._

_Mr. Geddes was a kindhearted man, though he had a wandering eye when it came to gammas. Arthur kept that to himself when he stopped the man for a small chat, discussing the longevity of their working on his farm._

_“The thing is…” Arthur began with a lengthy exhale, standing upright with his shoulders lax. “Jim and I need to get a place of our own. Take that first step into a new future for the better.”_

_Geddes nodded along, starting a walk down the porch. “I understand.”_

_“The thing is, we don’t have much fer credit. And I ain’t asking to borrow money or nothing. But maybe you could go to the bank, put in a good word so they could give us a loan?” Arthur felt a layer of film drape over him, speaking of money so carelessly. Not like a man of Geddes’ stature would fall for an upturned criminal._

_Geddes stopped in his pace, his bottom lip jutting forward in thought. “A loan?”_

_Arthur’s gloved hand went to rub at the back of his sunburnt neck. The last of summer was taking a toll on his skin. “So we can buy that place, Beecher’s Hope? Jim’s really taken a shine to it.”_

_“Yes, I know it.” Geddes turned to look over the wooden railing, staring across the lush plains and mountains surrounding the lot. “Yes, of course, sure. It’d be my pleasure.”_

_Arthur’s eyes followed the beta man’s movements, his head scanning over the land while his stare was a thousand yards further._

_“Just make sure you deal with Ansel Atherton at the bank. He’s a distant cousin. Use my name.” Geddes started walking along the porch again with Arthur following. “tell him to ask me direct himself. You’ll get what you need.”_

_Arthur was never one to show his neck at others, alphas and the other Epsilon included. It was an old traditional movement, not one driven deep into the instinct of others. Still, the alpha shrugged off his hat, rested it to his chest and gave a nod to the beta in respect._

_“Thank you, sir.”_

With a final wave to Hosea and Susan, the pair was off. Out of their lives like a distant dream long ago. Arthur felt a sliver of upset, knowing that they’d never cross paths again soon, but the feeling faded knowing that they were well off.

The ranch hands broke off to start their work as Arthur returned back to the cabin. He tapped the paper in his hand on the way, thinking about the money inside. They could leave right now if they wanted to, start their new lives.

“How’s my little buck today?” Arthur asked, stuffing the paper in his pocket as his hands globed around John’s stomach.

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to his mate’s cheek. John smirked, his hands placing over Arthur’s.

“Kickin’ up a storm,” John said, the presses to his stomach becoming harder and steady with each passing day. “Knows who their Daddy is, that’s fer sure.”

Arthur wanted to ‘aw’ in response, knowing that he could do it any day, every day. He bent forward, “That’s my boy, er girl. I ain’t picky…yet.”

“You are not getting another one for some time, Arthur Morgan.” John responded as the pup pressed in the direction of Arthur’s voice.

The alpha chuckled, standing upright again. “You ready to start packing up?”

“As I’ll ever be.” John turned in the doorway, taking his time to walk back inside. “They say anything to you ‘fore they left?”

“Just to take care of you. Also,” Arthur began, shaking his head and pulling out the piece of paper. “finally got that buttermilk recipe for you.”

John bent to pull their dresser chest free from under the bed, stopping to catch his breath. He sat on the edge of the bed, took the folded paper Arthur held out.

Arthur took the moment to grab the dresser chest, set it on the dining table. John opened the paper, the money falling over his stomach and into his lap.

“The hell’s this?” John asked, staring down at the wad of bills precariously scattered over his torso and legs.

“Gang share,” Arthur offered in explanation, grabbing a few of their clothes and folding them into the chest. “They left your old tent out by Shire too. We could use it for the land when we get to buildin’.”

John nodded, eyes misting as he scooped up the money in his hold. He stood up, stuffed it into the side of the chest for Arthur to hide under more clothes. He took the time to read the buttermilk recipe, shaking his head at the side notes for hard to decipher pieces.

“Sugar, butter, milk,” John repeated from the paper. “Nutmeg, vanilla and bake. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Arthur stretched his hand out, took hold of the back of John’s neck to pull him in. “’Tween the pup brain and the wolf mauling, I’m surprised yer head ain’t empty.”

John playfully jabbed Arthur in his side. “Yeah, rut for brains?”

“At least it only happens a few times a year.” Arthur chortled, closing the chest and massaging at the back of John’s neck. “We gonna be okay alone? Are you sure you don’t wanna stay ‘til after?”

John’s face scrunched, his brows furrowing together. “You don’t think we can do it? I’ve been birthing calves for two months.”

“Yer the one birthin’ now, John. What the hell do I know about anything?”

John folded his hand over his mouth to hide back the growing smile on his face. He would not say it, he was going to not say it. “You said it, not me.”

Arthur’s face fell placid while John’s shoulders shook into laughter. He took a moment at Arthur’s expense, only met with a growl from the alpha.

“If it makes you feel better, we can stay here a bit longer. But as soon as this pup is born, we’re gone. Right?”

Arthur nodded in agreement, “Right.”

The weight was lifted from Arthur’s shoulders, at least then John would be in better hands then him. He didn’t want to think of the worst, but with only them to help the situation, it was all he went to.

 _I can’t lose you. I can’t trust myself to keep you safe then._ Arthur pulled John closer, gave him a quick kiss before releasing his hold. “You should talk to Mrs. Geddes, see if she can be any help to us.”

“You got it, boss.” John nudged his elbow into Arthur’s side, a tender ribbing that Arthur took in stride.

Arthur refused to leave John’s side after being woken up in the middle of the night. The omega practically flung himself over his mate, rushing to stand as his water broke.

Now he was angrily pacing with Mrs. Geddes, hissing and growling with every turn he made at the door. He told her he wouldn’t make it back to the house, and he didn’t trust himself to not snap at any of the Geddes’ men.

“I can promise you that they won’t be a problem,” Mrs. Geddes tried, only receiving a deep throaty growl from John.

Arthur waited just outside of the cabin, unable to sit. He wanted to be in there, but Mrs. Geddes told him to wait, otherwise it was possible he’d be instinctual to attack.

He whittled at his cigarette, paced his own way before the steps while the light poured out of the door creaked open. It’d been two hours since they woke up, and less than a month before they expected the pup’s arrival.

Another cigarette, more growling from his mate inside that only reared his shoulders up. He was becoming short, casually snapping at the air the more he thought about it.

“John?” Arthur called out into the night though it was directed to the front door.

John huffed while he tried to stay up, walking back and forth while he gripped harshly at Mrs. Geddes’ hand. “What?”

“You okay?” Arthur couldn’t help the question, the assurance was necessary since he couldn’t see him. The pull in his chest yanked harshly, whipped up under his chin and lassoed around his neck.

John sucked a sharp breath between his teeth, stopping short of the corner of the table. He grabbed onto the chair, another contraction wracking through his hips and up his back. John grit, swore and squeezed both the chair and the gamma woman’s hand. “Peachy!”

Arthur stopped, now bunching and unbunching his wrists in frustration. They could get through this; Arthur didn’t know what to say in response only folded his hand to his chest to steady the pull in his chest.

John kept himself up on shaky legs, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to breathe through his mouth like Mrs. Geddes told him. The gamma woman showed her hands, made a steady motion to check between the omega’s legs.

“Woman, I swear if you touch me!” John barked in Mrs. Geddes’ face, an act he immediately regretted deep down. However, his body was fueling.

Arthur returned his mate’s barking, roaring from the front door as he took a step up the stairs. Mrs. Geddes held her hand out to calm John.

“It’s okay, I’m here to help, John.” She tried and John bared his fully-sharp omegan canines.

Mrs. Geddes kept her eyes down, returning to her task while John opened his mouth with a heavy snarl. He snapped at the woman’s ear, his tongue lining over his glistening teeth.

“Abe, get in here!” Mrs. Geddes called, barely having a moment to stand upright when Arthur burst through the front door. “Help him down to the bed, I can feel the pup’s head.”

Arthur obliged with a nod, coming to with the thick scent in the air. Almost lulling, but not quite. The ginger bite was now stinging the tip of his nose and he forced himself to focus.

Holding his hands before him like taming another bull, Arthur approached his sweating and snarling mate. “Alright Darlin’, come on now.”

John forced his eyes closed again. “Arthur, shut the fuck up, shut up.”

Arthur couldn’t grin at John’s expense, the tensions running high in his mate. He took hold of John’s hand, gently led him to the bed. John’s breath picked up, his jaw twitching in his snarling.

Climbing onto the bed after John, Arthur sat up against his mate’s back, took grip of both of his hands.

“Fuck you Arthur. Fuck,” John continued gritting, barking as Mrs. Geddes angled his knees up and towards his body.

Arthur’s nose twitched, glaring at the woman staring between John’s legs. Mrs. Geddes looked up, rolled up her sleeves. “It’s okay, boys. We’ll get through this together.”

John huffed through his nose. Arthur let John take harsh grip of his hands as another contraction wracked through him.

“Alright, Jim. Imma need you to push now,” Mrs. Geddes ordered gently, hand on the omega’s knee.

John shook his head, this was not going to happen. He was not going to make this pain worse. Mrs. Geddes smacked John’s knee, gave him a harsh look.

“Mr. Callahan, push.” She ordered harsher.

Arthur’s brows furrowed at her snapping tone of his mate. Mrs. Geddes held a finger up at the alpha, urging him to stay quiet, she had every right to make him leave again.

Arthur ducked his head into John’s neck, let his mate crack his knuckles and possibly disfigure his hands as John’s eyes welled, no longer able to not.

He pushed, released a low growl as long as he could until Mrs. Geddes told him to stop and breathe. Arthur nosed at John’s scent gland, syncing his deep inhale with John’s.

“Alright, again,” Mrs. Geddes said, tapping the omega’s knee again.

John did as he was told, his growl devolving into a pained whimper. Mrs. Geddes gave him another tap to relax.

Arthur took in the deep breath again with John, grounding himself firmly in the man’s scent. His mouth went dry as his hands went numb. He muttered words of encouragement and praise to John’s damp skin, only met with a lazy snarl.

“Again,” Mrs. Geddes ordered, “Long push, Callahan.”

John wanted to snap at the woman again. It was irking him beyond belief and now the pup was going to come into this world under their first alia. Hot tears streaked his cheeks as his knees started to tremble.

“Fuck,” John muttered, folding forward with Arthur as his backbone. He screeched, pushing as hard as he could with the momentary strength to plant his heels down.

With another break, John fell against Arthur’s shoulder in a heavy pant. “Goddamn you, Arthur. Damn you to hell and back.”

Arthur smiled cheaply against John’s temple. “Aww, yer just saying that.”

John’s nails finally cut into Arthur’s hands, clenching tighter while drawing droplets of blood. “I mean it, how the fuck did you talk me into this?”

Mrs. Geddes ordered again, with Arthur rearing up to be John’s backbone again. The omega sat forward, pushing again as more sweat glistened his face. Arthur tore a bit of bedsheet, dabbed it to his mate’s forehead when they relaxed again.

Mrs. Geddes patted at John’s knee, “We have a head, Jim. A few more pushes, okay?”

Turning into John’s ear, Arthur whispered, “Oh, but you had all the fun in the world makin’ ‘em, didn’t you?”

John snapped at him, rearing up to push again, harder. Arthur was right by his side, urging John to breathe and tear his hands to high hell.

“I will never…let you touch me again,” John said between heavy breaths.

Mrs. Geddes cradled at the pup, urging one more time to the spent omega.

“Now I know you don’t mean that. Couldn’t keep yer hands off me if you tried.” Arthur straightened up, keeping his position sturdy for John.

John was devolved into whimpering, shaking his head. “I hate you.”

“And I love you, now come on. One more time, Darlin’. Let’s meet our pup.” Arthur shifted, urging John to push forward one last time with a deep breath in and steady out.

“Good good boy, there’s the torso and…just like that, we have legs!” Mrs. Geddes guided the pup out, held it in her hands while she cleaned the blood from its face.

John collapsed against Arthur, catching his breath as his grip on his mate’s hands went limp. He was quiet, turning his face into Arthur’s chest while the alpha stared at Mrs. Geddes with scrutiny.

“They alright?” Arthur asked, breathing for what seemed like minutes.

Mrs. Geddes was quiet, giving the baby’s thigh a harsh pinch, which made it break into a cry. Arthur exhaled in relief, his arm crossing over John’s chest.

“You hear that? Our pup.”

John smiled tiredly, a mirthless huff to follow. Mrs. Geddes cleaned off more of the baby with the clean part of bedsheet, then reached to bundle it up with Arthur’s work shirt from earlier that day.

“This is baby boy Callahan,” Mrs. Geddes said standing, turning to rest the newborn in John’s trembling arms.

Arthur’s eyes followed the bundle, sitting upright as John leaned against him. John brought the bundle down, cradling the baby’s head in the crook of his arm and staring into his soft face.

Arthur went to stone, waiting for the reveal, then felt his hardened body melt away from him. He looked at the newborn’s face, his closed eyes and long lashes. The alpha welled, his nose pinching, as he leaned into John’s ear.

“That’s our son,” Arthur whispered, his bottom lip beginning to tremble. He bit it back for as long as he could before turning his face into John’s long hair.

Mrs. Geddes grabbed onto John’s empty wrist, giving him a gentle coaxing while she clipped down his nails on that hand. When she was done, John’s hand immediately went to touch at his son’s small bottom lip, earning a little tremble that made his heart weak.

The tug in his chest strung tightly, strummed happily in tandem with Arthur’s trembling breaths. John tried to elbow his mate to stop his tears, though he was close to breaking as well.

“Stop it, you big lug,” John whimpered, eyes welling up again the more he stared at his content son’s face.

His little chest heaved steadily, taking in his first breaths as his parents.

“You got a name for him?” Mrs. Geddes asked, wringing her hands on her apron before putting her fists on her hips.

“Jack,” John said, glancing over his shoulder to his now weeping mate hiding his face in John’s hair.

Mrs. Geddes nodded, “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. I’ll be back with some water and clothes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome baby Jack and the return of Feral John and Arthur.


	36. What One Deserves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur share bonding time with baby Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be fluffy, be fluffy.

Quiet.

Arthur was absolutely silent, stunned. Staring at his son’s face in lamplight, cradled closely to John’s chest while he fed.

Elation didn’t begin to describe it, Arthur felt it was underwhelming for the overgrowing of his heart so suddenly. He was unable to swipe the grin from his face, nuzzling his nose into John’s ear while he traced over Jack’s heavy hairline.

“He looks like you,” Arthur finally said, his voice barely above a quiet rasp. His arms folded under John’s, mimicking the hold on his son.

John smirked, not seeing much of the resemblance. All he saw was Arthur in the baby’s full cheeks, the point of his little nose and the heavy lashes. “He has Arthur Morgan written in the face.”

Though neither of them had seen Jack’s eyes yet, John knew it was true. This was Arthur’s son, his son. Their boy. Finally held and coddled to, warm and plump.

John couldn’t help but lean forward and take in the baby’s scent, pressing the tip of his nose to Jack’s small shell of an ear. Like yarrow and freshwater, hint of woods. The perfect mixture of the three of them.

“He might have yer temper then,” Arthur responded, ducking his chin to rest on John’s shoulder, mesmerized by his mate taking so tenderly to their cub.

John turned and pressed his lips to Arthur’s temple, whispered an apology for his angry words. Mrs. Geddes had returned and cleaned up the bed, helped John clean himself up.

She laid out bundle wraps for the newborn, even a hat for his little head. Arthur made the note to find the elk pelt to line the baby’s woven bassinet.

“I can’t stop lookin’ at him,” John said, turning to stare back at his child, his own flesh and blood, outside of him.

It was going to be hard to get used to, not feeling Jack press against his stomach. John almost thought he’d miss it. But now Jack was in front of him and John could count toes and fingers, tickle feet and stare at a face he’d waited so long to see.

With a soft coo, Jack squirmed and John unlatched the baby from him. “It’s alright, bud. You must be tired. Already in a rush to get somewhere.”

“You don’t have nowhere else to be,” Arthur added, reaching out to caress a gentle knuckle to his son’s face. “You got all the time in the world, little buck.”

John worked his shoulders back, exhaustion working its way further into him. He turned in Arthur’s hold. “Here, you take him for a second. I’ll make up his bassinet.”

Arthur nervously obliged his mate, taking John’s direction with Jack’s head cradling in the crook of the alpha’s large arm. “Just like that, be easy.”

Crossing his other arm under Jack, Arthur followed John off of the bed, holding his son as he opened his mouth to yawn. His nose wiggled in response, eyes squeezing shut before opening.

Arthur watched Jack blink, revealing cloudy grey-blue eyes. The room shifted in that moment, tilted on an axis and Arthur slowly sank to the floor. The alpha leaned in, nudged his nose along Jack’s hairline and grinned, eyes misting with tears once again.

“I would move heaven and earth fer you and your Pa, d’ya know that?” Arthur whispered, taking the moment to listen intently at the pup’s steady heartbeat.

John watched from the foot of the bed, holding onto the railing while he held onto his stomach. “C’mon now, let’s get to bed.”

Arthur slowly shifted to stand, moving to curl his arm around John. “Look at ‘im. We made that. Look at them eyes, he’s damned beautiful.” The alpha turned to press his lips to John’s cheek, a long lingering notion as a hot tear streaked down his cheek. “John, thank you. I do not deserve you.”

John eased their newborn from the trembling alpha’s arms, rested Jack on his back in the clothes-lined bassinet. Arthur sank to the edge of the bed, hiding his eyes with his palms as he no longer fought the stinging in his nose.

John made his way back to bed with a few worried tucks at Jack’s bedding, tufting up the baby’s dark hair and resting a kiss to his lips. He sat down, next to Arthur, the alpha’s shoulders shaking.

“Hey,” John started, pulling the man’s hands from his face to look at him.

Arthur’s face was flushed red, his eyes glistening with tears as his nose began to dribble. John grinned softly, his thumbs going to wipe free the streaks before scratching at the alpha’s beard.

“You deserve me, Arthur. And if I ever hear you say that again, I’ll make yer day hell. You deserve to be happy and not alone.” John searched the wet crystalline eyes before him, his own nose starting to pinch. “He is beautiful, like you.”

Arthur spared a dry chuckle, the back of his hand wiping at his nose. He tried to turn away but John held his face tight, pulled him in.

John smiled, his lips touching Arthur’s in an instant for a slight kiss. The alpha’s eyes fluttered close, his shoulders still rattling. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I love you, you messy dirty dummy.”

Arthur sniffed in amusement, his lips slowly curling in a smile. “I love you, too, you feral little bastard.”

John folded his bottom lip in, resting his forehead to Arthur’s. “I dunno if I wanna be Pa.”

Arthur hummed in question, biting back a yawn. “What’chu wanna be? You ain’t gonna be Daddy.”

John huffed, “No, there’s only one Big Daddy and that’s you.” John softly shook his head against his mate. “I dunno. Pa, maybe.”

“Do you wanna be called Ma instead?” Arthur quirked a brow, the motion tickling against John’s skin.

John shut his eyes, shook his head slightly. “Momma, Pa.”

Arthur’s hand went for John’s waist, “You only get one. Think on it, let’s get you to bed.”

He slipped past his omega’s body, pulled down the bedsheet then sat upright from John.

John obliged Arthur’s gentle coaxing, let him pull the bedsheet and comforter up to his shoulder. Arthur climbed in after him, resumed his natural sleep on his back with John quickly curling into his side.

Arthur combed John’s hair from his face, rested his hand on the back of his mate’s head knowing he’d be lost without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short chapter, i know. i just know where we're going next and damn it if i'm not excited about it.


	37. Jack and the New Frontier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new family tries to adjust and John and Arthur make another move towards their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the short chapter, but have more marshmallow fluff?

“Jack, honey,” Arthur began, pacing softly across the cabin with his restless son cradled in his arm. “I’m beggin’ ya. You gotta let yer Pa…yer Momma, yer Papa get some rest.”

The alpha was bundling his son in his winter jacket, lined with John’s thermal. He’d tried scenting, he fed him and changed him. Still, Jack was fussing, not staying down and Arthur was not one to let him cry it out.

John wanted him to let Jack soothe himself; Arthur was hard to sway in that way. For the past month, Arthur hovered while John and Jack spent their time together, huddled close while the pup suckled.

“Arthur, he’ll be okay, just put ‘im to bed.” John was up now, pushing his hair from his face and hissing at the soreness of his chest.

“John.” Arthur turned back, holding his son close to his chest. “Please, let me do this.”

John rolled over onto his side, resting back to the bed. “Yer gonna spoil him.”

“He’s not even a year old, there’s no spoilin’ him.” Arthur shook his head, jostling his newborn son in his arm.

“Just, bring him to bed.” John sat up on his elbow, fighting off the tired ache in his shoulders.

Arthur did just that, sitting on the edge of the bed carefully before turning and bracing his back to the headboard. John sat up further, looked down into his son’s reddish face, his little eyes sparkling with forming tears.

“Hey you, yer Daddy’s really tryin’ here,” John said lowly, leaning in to kiss his son’s forehead. “Be nice and go to sleep for him.”

Arthur stared into his son’s round face, his grey eyes downturned while his bottom lip quivered, ready to cry. His heart started to clench, the pull in his chest cutting like wire into him.

“Come on, bud.” Arthur gave his son another soft jostling, “Let’s get some sleep.”

John shifted his head to rest on Arthur’s lap, slowly closing his eyes while he hummed softly. “You tried purrin’?”

Arthur stopped in the moment and deadpanned down to his mate. “No, I ain’t tried purrin’ yet.”

John’s hand reached up and mindlessly scratched at his mate’s thigh, nuzzling his cheek to the man’s new pajamas. “You should do that.”

“You better be happy I love you, I’d be smackin’ you otherwise.” Arthur exhaled, beating himself up for not thinking of it at first.

John rolled onto his stomach, crossing his arms over Arthur’s legs and nuzzling his cheek again. “Like you’d ever try it.”

Arthur grumbled softly, knowing John was right. Still, he cleared his throat and returned his attention to his son. “Alright, how about we try purrin’?”

He went quiet, his chest starting to rumble rhythmically as he moved Jack closer to hear the low noise. Jack’s fussing slowed, his cloth-covered hands falling to his sides as he shifted towards the rumbling of Arthur’s chest.

Jack hummed contentedly, his little red face falling back into normal color. The tears dried into his skin, his little lip no longer twitching. Arthur exhaled in relief, leaning in to kiss his son’s temple.

“All that fuss, for what?” Arthur asked, keeping up the purring up as he looked to John, who was also asleep.

The next morning, Arthur woke up to his arms hauntingly empty. He jolted, looked around to see that John was missing as well.

“Hey, sunshine, you sleep okay?” John asked from the dining table. He held Jack in the crook of his arm, feeding him.

Arthur pinched at his nose with a sniffle, looking over his shoulder through the window to the heavy snow outside. “Yeah. When’d you get up?

“Not too long now,” John said, turning back to Jack cooing. “This little pup was bright-eyed at sunrise.”

“Jack,” Arthur tenderly stressed, getting out of bed and kissing John fully on the lips. “You’re botherin’ yer Papa so early.”

Arthur bent forward, nuzzled his nose to his son as John press his lips to Arthur’s ear. “It’s another early night fer both of us.”

“Shame.” Arthur stood upright, leaning into John’s hair with a grin. “I’ll take him again tonight.”

John hummed, eyes shutting as his finger tapped playfully at Jack’s bottom lip. “We’re gonna try and let him sleep in his bassinet. Alright?”

Arthur was silent, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his mate. He grunted in response, knowing he’d heard John’s request but knowing it wouldn’t last.

“We can try,” Arthur bent. “But as soon as he fusses—”

“We give him a minute,” John added, “Just a minute. Then if he still fusses, we’ll take turns.”

Arthur stared into John’s dark eyes, brightening with the winter sun beaming through the cabin. He skin was tan, rich golden honey toned while his hair was pulled back over his shoulders. Arthur growled in interest, his eyes trailing down his mate’s chin to his neck, then down the middle of his chest uncovered by his shirt.

“You ain’t tryin’ it, but you’re swaying me to agree,” Arthur said, going to the stove to pour himself some coffee.

John chuckled, folding his shirt closed after their son was finished. “Alpha pervert.”

Arthur hummed in amusement, turning to lean against the stove. “We’re practically married, Marston.”

John smirked. “That changes nothing.”

Arthur shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee as John stood up, walked Jack back to his bassinet. He took the moment to button up his shirt again, adjust his suspenders.

“We should head out today while the snow’s low.” Arthur mentioned over the lip of his coffee cup. He looked through the window, saw the wind had stopped. “We gotta find that pelt, make sure Jack doesn’t get cold.

“I’ll bundle him up in my jacket if we have to,” John added, caressing his son’s cheek before turning to grab the dresser chest. He flipped the top open, rummaged through their clothes and was bombarded with their mixed scent, his and Arthur’s sweaty clothes.

Arthur finished off his coffee, cleaned out the grounds from the bottom then set it on the stove. “You won’t have to, I got my spare in there at the bottom. I’ll gear up Shire.”

John held onto Jack under his jacket, his other arm bracing Arthur’s thigh as they rode south. The snow banks brow just past Valentine, and there was only cold winds to worry about by the time they made it to Blackwater.

Arthur dismounted from Shire, helped John and Jack off of the saddle before walking into the bank for the deed of Beecher’s Hope. John took the time to bundle his son closer, unveil his face to see him warm and asleep.

“Just a little further, okay?” Arthur stopped outside of the main office, folding the paper into his pocket. He took the moment to rub his hands warm while he peered in to see his son. “You okay?”

John pulled his eyes from Jack, his cheek being cradled by Arthur’s cold glove. He nodded. “Let’s get to our new home.”

Returning back outside to Shire, Arthur helped John back up then mounted the horse after. He clicked his tongue, leading his horse out of the town and onto the dirt path. They took a left at the fork, made their way towards the lush land before stopping at the fenced in acre of land named ‘Beecher’s Hope’.

The tug in John’s chest lushed, wormed excitedly at the sight of the sign marking their new home pass behind them. The land was dirt, very few trees planted in the fence. All that stood was a shack on a mound of dirt, boarded up with smoke billowing through the shoddy chimney.

“Stay here,” Arthur said, pulling Shire to a halt before dismounting aggressively.

John did as he was ordered, giving Jack another once over before Arthur marched up to the shack, wielding his shotgun. He kicked open the door, causing John to jolt in place and, in turn, wake up Jack.

“Aw, I’m sorry bud,” John soothed softly, giving his baby a squeeze before coaxing him back to sleep. “Yer daddy’s making a lotta noise. I’m gonna cover yer ears.”

Arthur brandished his shotgun at the squatters huddled around the fireplace, all of them wearing threadbare pants. He sniffed at the air, disgusted by the warding scent of sigmas. “This here’s my property now, so get out.”

He pointed the gun between the three, knowing that if he shot now the spread would wound them all. But he didn’t want to bother cleaning up sigma blood that wormed its way into the floor boards.

None of the men made a move for the open door, staring at the stranger that just burst in with the cold to follow. Arthur’s waning patience was now itching to pull the trigger. He bared his teeth in a loud growl.

“Out!” He ordered, the room booming with his authority.

The sigmas scrambled past the alpha and into the cold, darting past the omega on a horse and out into the fields.

“And don’t come back!” Arthur yelled from the doorstep, cracking open his shotgun and pulling the slugs from it to put back in his satchel.

John turned up his nose at the lingering stench of the sigmas that punctuated the cold air, stuck in his stuffy nose.

Arthur returned to Shire, replacing his shotgun and holding his hands out for John. “Come on, let’s get the tent set up.”

Later that night, John lined Jack’s bassinet with elk pelt, then bundled the pup in his and Arthur’s scent clothes. Arthur made it a point to tie down the edges of the tent tight, nail down the front flaps at night to not let any cold seep in.

John tossed out all of their clothes from the dresser chest, built them up into a nest now including Jack on the side of his bedroll. Arthur shook the cold from his shoulders, shrugging his jacket and kicking off his boots.

He climbed into the nest after his mate, rested on his stomach as he pulled a bundle of clothes under his head. John gave Arthur a careful pat, checked on Jack a final time before reaching to shut off the lantern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> marshmallow fluff.
> 
> Next time: John and Arthur start the foundation of their new home, also...John is reminded of something he didn't miss.


	38. Always My

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur try first hand at juggling home improvement and parenthood at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter. The next one is a short chapter. I'm not sure if you'll be mad at me for it, but you sure as hell won't be happy. Maybe, depends.

John nestled into Arthur’s side, inhaling and sniffing heavily at the alpha’s scent gland. He shifted more of leg to drape over Arthur’s waist, his arm curling around the man’s chest and bringing him in for a tight squeeze.

Arthur groaned at the firm hold on him, slowly blinking awake to John purring and nuzzling his face in his neck. “You alright?”

John refused to answer, content in the bathing of oils from Arthur’s scent gland. His now-dull nails gripped into his mate’s skin as he climbed on top of him and nestled closely.

Arthur grinned at John’s expense, seeing the omega begin to unbutton Arthur’s union suit and pawing at him like a cat. “Is it nesting time?”

John nodded quickly, his hands tugging the suit from Arthur’s broad shoulders and pushing it down to his waist with his knees.

“Just say you want my suit, John,” Arthur said with a chuckle to follow, his hand going for the back of John’s hair and pressing his lips to the man’s forehead.

John hummed, his hips aching at the gentle touch of Arthur. “I want yer suit. I want yer smell all over.” His hands drifted down Arthur’s chest, felt up his mate’s sides.

All he needed was the scent, just until he got out of bed. John could wear Arthur’s jacket, work through building up the skeleton of their house and fix his nest later. His ears pricked at the waking fuss of Jack. John sat up on Arthur, firmly planted on his mate’s waist. He waited as Arthur’s hands snaked slowly up John’s plushy thighs.

John raised his head to look over the lip of the bassinet, watch Jack coo to himself while he rubbed his small fists over his face.

“Is he up?” Arthur raised his head, turning to look at the waking pup.

John shushed him lowly, a hand patting at Arthur’s chest. “Give him a minute.”

“Fer what? We ain’t sleepin’.” Arthur raised up on his elbows. John squeezed his knees into Arthur’s sides.

“You want me offa you that bad?” John whispered back, still staring at his son slowly falling back asleep.

Arthur smirked, his hand going to undo John’s buttons. “I ain’t complainin’.”

“Then shut up and let Jack fall back asleep,” John hissed lowly, letting Arthur undress him while Jack hummed and turned his head.

With a low exhale, John returned to Arthur, raising his hips to let the alpha drag down his union suit. They rolled onto their side, then John on his back as Arthur’s hands roamed over soft skin.

“Ya gotta be quiet, you bear,” John whispered, folding his hand over Arthur’s mouth.

The alpha grunted lowly in response, staring into John’s teasing face. John used his toes to wriggle Arthur’s union suit down past his thighs then spread his legs to reveal the gush of slick.

“You been baitin’ me, Marston?” Arthur grinned at the sight, leaning into John and growling low in his chest.

John rolled his eyes back, feeling the rumble of his mate’s growl through his chest. This was better than being carrying Arthur’s scent around, it was practically melded into him this way. He switched his hand from Arthur’s mouth to the back of Arthur’s neck, pulling him in while his knees braced at his waist.

“Arthur, love me,” John breathed against Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur guiding his hardened length between John’s hips with John biting his lip to stifle a moan. Arthur grinned, pressing closer to his mate with a soft kiss.

John’s hands slipped down Arthur’s back, to his hips following the soft thrusts. Warmth pooled in his stomach; the feeling of Arthur almost new but wildly invigorating. After two months refraining from his touch, John was sure he’d never get enough.

The pace was careful, mindful of John. Arthur’s hand circled around John’s thigh, slowly lifting it around his waist.

The tug in their chests was flush, strumming in tandem as the heat grew between them. A stray moan escaped John’s lips, only for Arthur to bite at his bottom lip.

“Don’t wake the baby,” Arthur teased with a groan.

John nodded in response, his face scrunching in pleasure.

Later that day, Arthur returned into town for the lumber and plans for the new homestead leaving John to re-nest. John did just that, holding Jack while building up the walls of clothes that Arthur quickly rubbed on his scent gland.

“Don’t you feel better, surrounded by your Daddy’s clothes?” John asked his son, running his finger between Jack’s eyes and gently poking his nose.

Jack grinned, revealing his gums. John stared at his son, in awe but also slightly disappointed.

“You better smile when he gets back,” John whispered to Jack’s thick hairline. He stopped to inhale his son’s scent, grounding himself further. “We got our hands full with you.”

He set Jack down in the middle of the bedrolls, leaned over him and blew a raspberry on his son’s belly. Jack squeaked in amusement, hands going for John’s long hair.

Slowly sitting back up, John stared down at his son as he pulled at John’s locks.

“I love you, Jack,” John said softly, hiding a wince at the baby’s pull. He wiggled his hair from his son’s grip, dangled it in front of Jack’s face before tickling his nose. “I’m glad you’re here.”

How John could ever think he’d never have kids was beyond him, especially staring in Jack’s face. Or even looking at Arthur with Jack.

“I’m back,” Arthur said, pulling back the flap to the tent with a shake of his coat. He took the moment to take in John staring down at Jack, his long hair curtained around the baby. “How’s the nest comin’?”

John pulled his hair behind his ear, turning to Arthur. “It’s comin’. What’d you think, bud?” He carefully reached for Jack, one hand going for his head and the other going for his legs. “Look, Arthur.”

John ran his finger down Jack’s nose as Arthur approached, then poked the cub’s nose for him to smile and coo in delight. Arthur plopped to the ground, crossing his legs as he boomed with giddy laughter.

“Look at you, grinnin’!” Arthur held his hands out for his pup with John’s help. Jack stared blankly into Arthur’s face as the man scrunched his nose.

He did the same with his finger, a lot lighter for the rough texture of his hands. When he poked Jack’s nose, the baby grinned again, revealing gums.

“Ain’t you sweet?” Arthur leaned in and kissed his son’s cheek, pulled him in close. He spent a minute sharing grins with Jack until his face turned sour.

His bottom lip jutted out as his grey eyes began to well. “Alright, I think it might be time for lunch. Papa?”

John chuckled, pulling his hair back behind his shoulders. “Come ‘ere, ya little gremlin. Let’s eat.”

Arthur watched John unbutton his shirt with a hand then reach for Jack. The alpha shifted into the nest, opening his satchel as John urged Jack to latch onto him.

“And I got you some lunch,” Arthur said, pulling free two handkerchief wrapped sandwiches. “Did you know there’s a butcher in Blackwater?”

John nestled Jack in his arm, shaking his head at Arthur. “Can’t say I was payin’ attention to stores last time we been here.”

Arthur grit, unwrapping John’s sandwich and resting it on his knee. “Dumb question to ask then.”

He did the same for his own, taking a bite of it while stifling a chuckle. John scoffed at his mate, grabbing onto his own lunch.

“After he’s done, we can get started buildin’.”

John hummed in response, taking a bite of his sandwich. He leaned forward, his free hand grabbing at Arthur’s jacket lapel. “Thanks fer lunch, sugar.”

Arthur offered to keep Jack close to him for the day, building up the skeleton and laying the foundation of their new home. John did his best, taking a few breaks in plank laying to feed Jack while Arthur diaper changing.

“We make a good team,” Arthur offered, taking John’s break to lift three planks onto his shoulder and move them to the south part of the house.

“Sure, when we’re on our own.” John draped his jacket over his shoulder, shielding Jack’s face from the sudden cold chill that swept over the land.

John stared across the land, dry and grey with the winter bite. “Could use some trees.”

“And some grass.” Arthur grunted, setting down the planks then readjusting them in the foundation.

“Don’t you hurt yourself back there.” John threw over his shoulder. “Can’t be having both of us off our feet at a time.”

Arthur scoffed, standing upright and pulling his hat from his head. The sweat from his forehead met the cold breeze and a shiver traveled down his spine. “You just don’t wanna nurse me back to health.”

John turned over his shoulder to smirk at Arthur. “I already got one baby on me, I don’t need two.”

“Oh but this mornin’, it was different. ‘Don’t wake the baby’, ‘Arthur, love me’.” Arthur taunted, using his sleeve to swipe the drench from his face.

John waved his hand. “It’ll be the last time.”

Arthur chuckled, deciding to take a break next to his mate. He peeked behind John’s jacket, saw Jack lulling himself to sleep with the engorging of milk.

“That’s what you say every time, John. But when that heat comes I’ll be yer favorite person again.” Arthur turned to stare forward, a natural grin curling his lips.

John glanced over to his mate, chestnut hair tied behind his shoulders while his cerulean eyes reflected against the cold grey sky. “You’re always my favorite person, you know that.”

Arthur tried to bite back his grin, only for it to beam brightly. He leaned his head over to John’s shoulder. “I know, I just like hearin’ you say it.”

John hid a roll of his eyes, shoving the alpha off of him. “Don’t get sappy, you dummy.” He pulled back the jacket to stare down at their dozing son. “And you, you’re wastin’ it.”

He shrugged his jacket slightly, freeing Jack from his chest. “Come on, you gotta go back to Daddy, alright?”

John swiped the milk dribbling across Jack’s cheek, giving him a little nose scrunch in amusement before carefully handing him over to Arthur. The alpha obliged, opening his jacket and bundling the baby close.

“Makin’ out like a fat cat, huh?” Arthur whispered down to Jack. He spared a tender grin to John then turned down to his son. “It is pretty sweet, right? Almost like honey…”

“Will you stop being nasty to our son?” John pulled on his jacket, buttoning up his shirt. “And let’s get back to work.”

“Okay, boss,” Arthur said teasingly, standing up.

“Arthur~” John mewled.

It’d been quick, no sooner when John lain down his stomach was filled with giddiness and his skin started to prickle in heat. He’d stripped out of his union suit, tried to hide himself under the white cougar pelt of Arthur’s past expeditions but was failing.

He was hot, and making a mess of his bedroll with slick. He thought he was at least attempting to hide it well, but Arthur could smell it before he came into the tent.

The onset drove him straight into rut, something he hadn’t missed since before Jack was born.

John did not miss this, hands folded between his legs as he rocked through the mindset deeply lined with pink fur. _God, where is Arthur when you need him?_

 _At least it wouldn’t last long if Arthur had any act in it. He was so good with his hands._ John roamed his hands up his stomach and across his chest before rolling onto his stomach with the tightening of his fists.

_No, it can wait. It can be sweat out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just learned that you can leave multiple kudos, they come up as multiples in the kudos log. Not saying you should try it here, but try it some time. The more you know, huh? 
> 
> Also, we are nearing the end. Are you not going to be upset when this is finally over? Like Arthur and John sitting on the porch, watching Jack play, sunset??? 
> 
> Crazy...


	39. The Quiet Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perfect, or not so perfect timing, brings John and Arthur into an absolute frenzy. 
> 
> Arthur asks a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we back again folks.
> 
> we f**kin.

Arthur folded before the tent, hands planted firmly over his mouth and nose to stop from taking in anymore of John’s scent. Sure, regular slick was one thing, shaking it out of his mate with his growl like his own personal syrup tap.

But this was primo heat slick, something he’d only gotten to experience once and never had the chance to taste. _That had to change._ He forced himself to his feet, taking a deep inhale of whatever fresh air he could before ducking into the tent.

He felt taken back to a time where he tried to swear off John, to John begging him to breathe, mount.

“You alright?” Arthur asked coolly, glancing over to Jack sleeping nearby. The lantern was turned dim, leaving the warm glow to coat John’s back.

John was quick to his knees before Arthur, fumbling with the man’s belt and hastily undoing his suspenders as he panted. “Get…inside me now.”

Arthur was flustered, hands hurriedly trying to pull his omega from his crotch as he tried to adjust. His cock sprung free from his pants and was soon lathered with John’s spit, sucking and tonguing at him while his arms curled around Arthur’s thick thighs.

“John, jeez, slow down,” Arthur tried, pulling John’s head back to look into his eyes.

The dark chocolate orbs were completely black obelisks, reflecting and begging for touch while John hallowed his cheeks. Arthur hid an inward suck of his teeth, blinking away the oncoming haze of red along with the already blurry fuzz of John’s heat.

They were headed to a bad place. John kept on, forcing more of Arthur into his mouth, down his throat while he exhaled hot air from his nostrils.

Arthur only held his head, trying to gain composure enough to put John on his hands and knees. Or on his back. Arthur wasn’t going to be picky.

If John got to do this then he’d bend the omega over himself and drink from him until he cried.

“John,” Arthur firmly barked, taking grip of John’s hair and tugging him off with a satisfying pop. “Get in the nest.”

John stared up at Arthur from the haze, overexerting himself on the alpha’s beautiful musk. He wiped the drool from his mouth, slack-jawed and did as he was told.

Arthur regained a semblance of himself, just enough to easily undress himself and turn Jack’s bassinet facing away from the nest. John was arms open eager, legs splayed and feet planted revealing matted hair and a sight of pink, slickened folds.

 _Fuck._ Arthur climbed into the nest, wrangled his mate’s knees over his shoulder then pulled him up.

“A-Arthur.” John tried to brace a hand as his hips were caught in Arthur’s rough hands.

The alpha’s face was gently squeezed between twitching, slick thighs, staring at the source. “Relax and stay quiet.”

John tried to control his breathing, elbows bracing the bedroll as Arthur trailed his lips and scraggly beard against his hot skin. He panted again, eyes rolling, as Arthur’s hot breath roamed up to his hips and stopped just before his clit.

“F-fuck, Arthur, please,” John tried to plead, his body almost breaking into further shakes.

Arthur’s eyes flicked up, scanned over John’s lithe body up to his plushy chest heaving in anticipation. He gave his mate a polite shush then stuck his tongue out to flatten against John’s throbbing clit.

John crumbled instantly, losing all stiffness in his body as he folded both hands over his mouth to keep from moaning. He tried to breathe evenly through his nose, though a pant still rattled his chest.

Arthur continued down, lapping between his mate’s hips while teasing his tongue to John’s hole. He was washed over with the taste, heavily planted in the scent of his mate with his pubic fur tickling against his nose. This was something to be savored, like candied peaches.

His hands gripped tighter at John’s hips, lowering him back down to the bedroll with himself following. Arthur flattened himself to the bedroll, dick chafing against the fabric, while kept his animalistic slurp and snarl to a minimum.

John’s breathing picked up, the warmth from his alpha boiling its way up his body. His eyes fluttered at Arthur sucking on his swollen nub, bringing forth a toe-curling orgasm that caused John to lash out.

His dull nails dug into the back of Arthur’s head, his thighs squeezing tight around Arthur’s ears. The alpha took it with pride, feeling the warmth of John’s skin bring a chill down his back.

Sitting up, Arthur swiped his mouth with his thumb, gathered John’s juices before pressing it to his tongue. “You wanna keep goin’?”

John nodded as Arthur leaned over him, bringing the omega’s knee up to his chest. “This okay?”

John was quiet, he couldn’t find the words to speak with his body still wracking in pleasure. He nodded, rolling his shoulders back. Arthur stared into John’s blissed out face, his eyes losing focus while his cheeks were flushed with red.

“Marston,” Arthur began in a sing-song voice, low enough for only John to hear. His hand went to pat John’s cheek, bring him to focus. “You want my knot, don’tcha?”

John blinked, staring up at Arthur, still put-together despite the slick in his beard. He nodded slowly, his bottom lip catching in his teeth. “Yeah.”

Arthur took hold of John’s chin, leaning in to ghost his lips before John’s. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I…” John gulped; his throat suddenly dry with his tongue teasing out to slither in Arthur’s mouth. “want your knot, Arthur~”

Arthur grinned against his mate, pulling away and teasing his tip between John’s slickened folds. He shot John another look, receiving a nod in return, before sheathing himself fully between his hips.

John threw his head back with a low groan of desire, the feeling of Arthur still invigorating and addictive. Arthur was against him, taking the omega’s wrists in one hand while his other gripped at John’s plushy thigh.

He started a steady pace, dragging out noises that John had to strain through his throat lest he woke the pup. John’s chest heaved short breaths, trying to control himself while Arthur began to drive more slick out with a quicker pace.

He sat up slightly, his head hiding in Arthur’s scent gland and breathing in the heightened scent under his nose. John gulped and bit at Arthur’s shoulder, trying to sate the fast-approaching roaring in his belly as second time.

Arthur watched his omega start to squirm, biting back his pleased sounds with bites and frustrated humming. He ducked his head down to John’s neck, started nosing down his skin before trailing kisses to his nipple.

John’s hands flailed in Arthur’s hold, trying to keep the alpha from taking him in his mouth and sucking gently. John couldn’t come up with words, only whining at the strange tickle coming from Arthur teething at his nipple, his tongue circling it while milk spurt freely.

“You fucker~ I hate you…” John tried to gain some solidity to his voice, only met with the quake of real shakedown. “Knot me, you bastard. Do it alrea~dy…”

Arthur grinned devilishly, pulling free from John’s trembling chest and returning to his mouth. “You wanna get bred again, Marston?”

John’s face scrunched in delectation; his body no longer able to hold back. He wanted a hand to grab at the back of Arthur’s neck, beg him yes, to do whatever because the pleasure was close to agony. He wanted a kiss, _dammit_ , and a knot, what more could he want?

“Yes, yes, please,” John cried lowly, his cheeks now streaking with small, hot tears from holding back.

Arthur let go of John’s wrists with John’s shoulders slumping in relief. His arms curled around Arthur’s tight back, feeling at the tense muscles while he hid his face in his mate’s shoulder and let loose a string of well-deserved swears.

His thighs were quaking now, his body at high peak as he finally crashed into a second orgasm. John’s nails raked into Arthur’s skin. He muffled his elongated moan of Arthur’s name into the alpha’s reddened neck.

He was close to collapse, feeling himself being pulled from physical being. John held onto Arthur for dear life, his whole-body twitching as his toes stretched and cracked.

Arthur smirked, pressing his lips to John’s cheek. “Quitting’ so soon?”

John couldn’t even try a quip, his body detached from his soul. His skin was enlivened, sensitive to the air in the room, anything that wasn’t Arthur’s sweat-drenched skin. His eyes lolled, begging to close, until Arthur gave a final thrust and pressed his lips to John’s.

He felt it again, the tug in his chest going taut and silent, staring through his lashes at his alpha over him. Arthur’s eyes went wide at the feeling in his chest, staring down at John for some sort of acknowledgement.

His knot began to swell, firmly planted between John’s hips as he gushed hot seed into contracting omegan walls.

John exhaled in relief, lips still on Arthur’s and his hand cupping the alpha’s cheek. He knew only Arthur could do it, get it out of his system so satisfyingly.

Arthur let the haze start to fizzle, still enamored by his mate’s over-ecstatic nature. Practically worn out.

He pulled away from the kiss with a deep exhale, his shoulders relaxing as he released his grip on John’s thigh. His skin was now marked with half-moon marks, deep enough for more bruises.

“Marry me?” Arthur asked in a breath, not even thinking twice about it. Why would he? They were, in all other forms, there. What was a ring?

John grinned giddily, stupidly, while his eyes still lulled. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU READY TO SEE THE END? DO YOU KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING? 
> 
> ehh, we got like two more epilogues after this soo....


	40. Wearing White

John squinted an eye awake at Jack crying. The winter sun lit around the tent, warming up the air, but John ducked his head into Arthur’s shoulder.

His personal human pelt of a man, John nosed at Arthur’s scent gland then raised his mouth to his ear.

“Your son is awake.”

Arthur groaned, turning his face into John’s neck. “You heard him first.”

John raised his knee, tried to sit up but felt the knot planted firmly between his hips. He flopped back to the bedroll, forcing his eyes shut as he reached for the alpha’s knot. Arthur sat up at the manhandling, helping John disconnect them.

“We did it again,” John said, pressing under his navel to coax his own knot to release.

Arthur huffed in amusement, deflating his own knot and pulling out with a nod from John. “Maybe it’s nothin’.”

John shook his head, sitting up with his legs draped over Arthur’s. He teasingly patted at Arthur’s cheek then pushed himself to stand. “You keep thinkin’ that.”

He reached for Arthur’s shirt, quickly pulling it on before going to pick up Jack. Arthur cleaned up what he could of the nest, knowing the bedrolls would need a good scrubbing.

“You ain’t ready for a brother or sister yet, are ya?” John asked, holding his son over him then cradling him in his arm. “Your daddy thought he was slick last night. Breakin’ me down ‘til he stuck a…”

“Don’t you dare tell him ‘bout that, John. And you,” Arthur pointed over his shoulder to baby Jack. “ain’t getting a sibling no time soon.”

John scoffed, pulled back his hair with a touch to his forehead. “Heat’s broken.”

Arthur shook his head with a huff, reaching for his satchel. “Hey, you remember what you said last night?”

John adjusted Jack in the crook of his arm, freeing his chest for the pup to latch on. “What’chu want me to say? I want your knot again? Not gonna happen.”

He turned away from Arthur. The alpha shook his head, digging through his satchel. “That ain’t it. I mean, I ain’t saying no, but rut’s held off for now.”

John rolled his eyes. “What was it, Arthur?”

Arthur’s tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he searched through his short number of belongings, hoping to find the canvas bag from yesterday. When he found it, he tossed his satchel away, pulled free a silver band from the bag and shuffled to his knees.

“John,” Arthur started, pinching the band between his thumb and finger. He glanced down, saw himself free to the breeze.

“In a second, Arthur.”

With a quick grab, Arthur held one of button-ups over his waist. “John.”

“What?” John turned around again, unlatching Jack and cradling him on his shoulder. He grinned immediately, chuckled at the sight of his alpha knelt before him, holding his shirt for modesty. “What are you doin’?”

John took a step back, eyed his mate a bit closer. The silver in Arthur’s hand caught onto a ray from outside the tent, glinted in John’s eyes.

“ _What_ are you doin’?” John asked again, now noticing that Arthur was quiet and going pale in the face. “Arthur?”

Arthur took a deep breath in then out, pinching harder at the band in his hold. He stared into John’s brightening eyes, his mouth twitching into a nervous smile as he held their son. “John Marston…”

John’s nervous smiling turned into laughter, his hand folding over his mouth as he turned away to pace. Not that he could forget what happened the night before.

Arthur’s eyes followed his mate gently bouncing their son on his shoulder. “John…”

He was quick to stop, flustered with his hand shaking before his face before holding it out for Arthur to take. “Go on, put it on me.”

John tried to clear his throat, maintain his naturally tough demeanor. His stomach was doing flips and, whether it was his son on his chest or the remnants from the night before, John’s heart was racing.

The tug in his chest was happily whipping, roping itself overhead and drawing his emotions up while Arthur shakily took his hand.

Arthur’s throat dry, he gulped and ran his thumb over John’s knuckles. He stared into John’s face with a smile, eyes beginning to mist unnecessarily.

“Don’t you get all sappy on me,” John tried to bite through the sudden pinch of his nose staring into Arthur’s beautiful lazuline eyes.

“I ain’t, I promise,” Arthur said, slipping the band onto John’s ring finger. “You already know I love ya like the day is long. And I’d move the world for you and Jack, and whatever else you want in the future.”

John’s eyes flicked to the metal band on his finger against his tanned skin. He sank to his knees, rested his hand to Arthur’s cheek and drew him in for a kiss. “I ain’t wearin’ white.”

Arthur smiled, following after John’s lips. “Wouldn’t ask you to.”

_Dear Mr. Morgan and/or Marston,_

_I heard through a few mouths and across the long plains of New Haven that congratulations are in order. Not only on your upcoming nuptials, but the beautiful pup you’ve brought into the world._

_I only assume he’s beautiful because I know who his Daddies are. I’m sure he looks like the two of you, through and through. I’d like to meet him someday._

_I do hope that the new Mrs. Adler and myself make it to your ceremony, and if we are too late, then know that we are not far from you. We are glad that you three are safe, Abigail was so actively worried about y’all short of a year._

_Thank god for Mrs. “Ruth Matthews” finding us when she did, I’m sure Abigail would’ve left me to find John just to smack him in the face._

_But we’re glad you’re okay. We expect photos of that cherubic son of yours, Jack. And Abigail urges me to tell you that she be referred to as Aunt Abigail and nothing else._

_In your best favor,_

_Sadie Adler_


	41. Epilogue I: Facing the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and John finally take their time in the sun, with only their future ahead of them.

The ceremony was on the first day of spring, on the hill overlooking the vast plains of their homestead. Arthur held Jack in his free arm, the pup snoozing softly while the priest went through the wedding prayer.

John held onto Arthur’s hand, shaking his head at the alpha looking his best despite the pup dribble on his lapel. He reached, rubbing it away before straightening his suit jacket.

“You’re right, you do clean up well,” John whispered with a grin.

Arthur offered a wink to John, squeezing the younger outlaw’s hand as the priest turned to the couple.

“Arthur, would you like to share a few words to John?”

The man exhaled deeply, turned fully to face John. His eyes scanned John’s clean-shaven face, his short-cut hair that he insisted he could do himself. John’s dark eyes were reflecting with the sun’s beams, melting them into beautiful dark honey orbs.

Arthur gulped, his mouth curling naturally. “John. You been a pain in my ass for the longest time.”

John scoffed, trying to bite back the immediate grin on his lips.

“But I wouldn’t want it any other way. You’ve been the only right-hand I want by my side, I’d go wherever you followed and I will continue to do all that I can to make you, and Jack, happy.”

John’s fingers tangled between Arthur’s, wanted to kiss him just to stop the alpha from getting any sweeter. Or sappier.

“Wonderful words spoken from an alpha. John? Do you have any words?” The priest turned to John, who was invested in Arthur’s eyes.

“You are a complicated man, Arthur Morgan. A dumb man, stubborn too. Not that there’s much wrong with that, but when you’re on with something, you’re a little more insufferable. I don’t love you any less for it. In fact, I love ya more ‘cause you’re a damn good man and I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Arthur grinned. “Didn’t know you could say things so nice.”

“Shuddup,” John said between his teeth.

“Well, since there is no one else here to object.” The priest glanced behind both men then over his own shoulder to the sun. “In the power vested in me, by the grace of the Epsilon, I now pronounce you man and husband. You may now kiss your mate.”

Arthur stepped closer to John, his hand cupping his mate’s cheek. His eyes searched between John’s, tracing over the healed scar over the bridge of his nose. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in, John tilting his chin up to catch Arthur’s scarred lips in a full kiss.

John’s free hand went for Arthur’s hip, pulling the alpha closer as he felt Jack squirm between them. His lips curled into a smile, the sun heating his face.

_Finally, it was there. No longer the shore._

_Happiness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not ready for this story to end. :(
> 
> I love these two so much.


	42. Epilogue II: The Pack Runs Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John and Arthur go soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end. 
> 
> I'm sorry, but this will be short. This was just the final idea I had for these two before they go off into their happily ever after.

Arthur slept soundly until a dogpile began on his chest. He groaned at the steady weight on him, Jack climbing onto his chest to rest his head.

He squinted his eyes open at the bright sunlight in the room, his hand folding over his son’s head. “Hey, young buck. How’d you sleep?”

The alpha raised his head up to kiss the top of Jack’s head, his dark hair starting to grow out like his Papa’s. He looked over to see John’s bedside empty but the twins bouncing in the space.

“Girls, where’s Papa?” Arthur reached his hand out to stop Grace and Beatrice from jumping on the bed, then pushed himself to sit up.

John stopped in the doorway, hands on his hips while he stared at the kids climbing on top of Arthur. “I told you to wake him up, not tackle him.”

Arthur grumbled in response, “Hey Darlin’.”

John grinned at his mate. “Hey sugar. You want some breakfast? The girls grabbed some eggs this morning.”

“Daddy, Rosie laid a real big one, you gotta see it!” Grace said, shaking Arthur’s arm giddily.

“Breakfast sounds great.” Arthur picked up Jack then curled an arm around Grace before climbing out of bed. “Let’s go see this egg, huh?”

Beatrice clambered off of the other side of the bed, grabbed onto John’s hand and followed Arthur down the hallway to the dining room.

John bent forward as much as he could, holding his stomach while keeping up with Beatrice’s little footsteps.

At the dining table, John cut the kids’ pancakes then drizzled them with syrup. Arthur helped with pouring their milk, adjusting their handkerchiefs around their necks to keep from dirtying their clothes.

“Still make a good team?” Arthur said finally, sitting at the head of the table and pulling John to sit in his lap.

“Getting better every day,” John added, leaning in to press a kiss to the alpha’s cheek. “Alright, who’s helping Daddy with the vegetables today?”

Jack pointed across the table at Grace, while the twins pointed at each other.

“What, no one wants to help me? I thought I was y’all’s favorite.” Arthur curled his arms around John’s waist, minding his pudgy stomach.

“No, daddy! We love you!” Bea spoke up, with the other two interjecting the same.

Arthur ignored his children’s energetic convincing, leaning into John. “At least Papa loves me.”

“I love you, Dad! I’ll work with you,” Jack sat up on his knees in his chair.

The twins shook their heads at Jack, overlapping that they would help Daddy with all the chores, even help Papa with the cows.

“That’s not fair, I wanna help Papa too!” Jack yelled back with John shaking his head.

“Look what you started.” John rolled his eyes back, taking a deep breath in with his hand bracing the table. “Happy thoughts, Daddy.”

Arthur snorted, giving his mate a firm squeeze as he took a deep breath in then out. Together, they waited, only breathing in each other’s scents until the three cubs calmed down.

They were quiet, returning to their plates with deep sniffing to the air. John groaned lowly, reaching to massage the space between his brows. Arthur rested his chin on John’s shoulder, staring at the three eating their pancakes in silence.

“You wanna take Jack and I’ll take the girls?” Arthur asked, reaching for his fork to shovel a bit of egg to John’s mouth.

“No, I’ll leave them be today. Maybe have a picnic, what do you think?”

Arthur scrunched his nose at his mate. “I think you’ve gone soft, Marston.”

“Says you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. Well, mostly.*
> 
> I like to think that John and Arthur have four kids: Jack, Beatrice, Grace and Charlie. Jack's birthday is November 10th, 1899. The twins' are October 3rd, 1900. Charlie's is June 25th, 1905. And all alpha cubs, except Charlie. 
> 
> *I'd like to make a series on these two, a collection of works with John and Arthur in different times and AU's though the A/B/O thing would stay the same. If I were to make another fic, the next one would be College AU and it'd be a little while to get started. 
> 
> Either way, thank you for sticking to the end of this and I'm sorry if it's not all you'd want it to be. 
> 
> Says you.

**Author's Note:**

> These are messy boys, this is a messy verse for me to write. I apologize in advance. Also, I'm sorry if you (in the near future or otherwise) feel personally victimized by the angst I write in this.
> 
> I am 1000% percent responsible and I truly like to feel pain in my writing so you must also suffer. I'm sorry.
> 
> (This title was originally a song from Tory Lanez, but in light of recent events (and a long-standing thought that the song might not be as relatable to the fic as I thought) I renamed it to 'Come Undone'. It's a song I heard once in an omegaverse playlist on spotify and I like that it would work in this way rn. )


End file.
